


Choking My Own Red Heart

by harrys



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Sharing Feelings Through Songs, Unrequited Love, i literally just mention the word uni, or at least a valiant effort at humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4781456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrys/pseuds/harrys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just a friendly thing, that's all it really is to harry. but it's so much more to louis it <em> hurts. </em></p><p>it hurts waking up with curls tickling his ears, long limbs haphazardly thrown against his own, a ghost of a kiss on his head and a hand curled around his waist. it hurts, because he <em> wants, wants, wants. <em> he wants it and so much more too. he wants everything with harry.</em></em></p><p> </p><p>  <em></em><br/>    <em>(or the one where louis doesn't let himself have what he wants and is dumb enough to think that he could ever be just friends with harry.)</em><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i may have had a tiny bit of red wine and a cool playlist going on before i started writing this mess at such an ungodly hour. if that doesn't entice you, i don't know what will. 
> 
> i didn't capitalize anything, because i'm lazy, but let's pretend i did it on purpose. to be pretentious or something. also, any spelling/grammatical errors are my own fault.
> 
> the title is from "kisser" by step rockets.

louis tomlinson is a good guy, a great guy even.

 

he calls his mom every day, pays his rent on time, holds doors open, attends all of his lectures, never turns down girl scout cookies - he’s a modern day philanthropist, _it’s definitely a thing, liam_ \- and tips more generously than a broke university student probably should. he’s got three best friends, a pug and a coffee machine that purrs. all in all, he’s living well and is content.

 

however, the universe clearly hates him and decides to punish him. he supposes he deserves a little adversity, as he hasn’t quite forgiven himself for that one phase in which he wore primary coloured pants and posted mirror selfies that were taken on zayn’s old nokia.

 

 _but_ he’s upped his game since then and only takes selfies of the highest calibre, which is why he’s slightly confused as to why life has thrown him such a huge obstacle.

 

such a curly, lanky, fruit punch-lipped obstacle.

 

in summary, the past two months half been a blur of inconvenient boners, lame excuses and uncomfortable small talk, all leading up to another night out that was likely to end up in more unforgiving boners.

 

“mate, if you don’t come out right now, you’re getting left behind.” liam says calmly, even though his fists are currently beating out the rhythm to some lame, passive-aggressive rap song on louis’ door. liam’s taste in music sucks almost as much as his spelling does.

 

in between his thoughts of the easiest way to cover a homicide and find another roommate that will walk his dog daily, louis also considers creating a powerpoint to educate liam on his shortcomings. it would be for the greater good and he could probably use it as volunteer hours.

 

instead, he huffs out a sigh and unlocks the door, prompting liam to stumble into the room. “i don’t want to go anyways. please keep my pretty blue eyes at the forefront of your mind, when you’re on your knees for zayn in a bathroom stall.”

 

“zayn and i aren’t-,” liam fish mouths for a couple of seconds, his cheeks heating up slightly as he shakes his head and shoots louis a firm glare, “you’re deflecting! stop that. now put on your smelly shoes, tight black jeans, one of those long tanks that will show some side nipple by the end of the night and let’s get going.”

 

louis rolls his eyes, but heads to his closet anyways, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder to make liam squirm more, “watch out, li. might steal your boy with my cleavage.”

 

-

 

“zayn’s not my boy, we’re just really good friends,” liam’s speech is slightly slurred, as he gently nurses a gin and tonic to his chest, “he’s just my friend, my really, really pretty friend.”

 

louis arches an eyebrow, “that’s where you’re wrong, see… _i’m_ your really, really pretty friend. zayn’s our roommate that sucks you off from time to time and then paints portraits of you afterwards. naked. on the living room couch. that i sit on quite often.”

 

liam blinks once, then twice, then says forlornly. “you think he’s gonna fuck that dude on our couch?”

 

“first of all, i really hope that when you say _our couch,_ you’re talking about the fact that all three of us split the price and not the fact that the majority of cumstains are from you and z-”

 

“louis, i’m drunk and you’re speaking a hundred words per minute.”

 

“sorry.” he's not.

 

“also, the majority of cumstains are yours,” liam sighs dreamily, “zayn swallows.”

 

louis fights down the urge to empty his stomach’s contents and rolls his eyes, “right. anyways, i highly doubt that he’s taking that bloke home. he’s not zayn’s type. ”

 

“who’s not zayn’s type?” niall grins, as he sits on louis’ lap, even though there’s more than enough space in their booth. he already smells like beer and wings, it’s oddly comforting.

 

“that guy he’s dancing with over there,” louis says as he makes a weak attempt at pushing niall off his lap. it's not a huge deal since he probably weighs less than louis’ pug.

 

liam groans and closes his eyes, “i can’t watch.”

 

“do you want a play by play then?” the blonde offers, as he finally slides off louis’ lap.

 

liam opens his eyes, only to roll them at niall. “i think i can do without the commentary tonight, ni.”

 

“hey, now. no need to get short with niall.” louis reaches across the table to swat at liam’s shoulder, “zayn’s just having some fun, but you’re the one he goes home with.”

 

“because we live together! i also go home with you,” he groans, his face hitting the table.

 

louis scoffs, “you are incredibly privileged to even be within a 30 mile radius of my biting wit and lively personality, li. a lot of people would kill to go home with me.”

 

“i certainly would,” a low voice pipes up from the front of the booth. “sorry i’m late, boys.”

 

louis looks up and his heart suddenly feels heavy. or maybe it’s his cock.

 

“harry! sit down, we’re just having a nice little girls night.” niall smiles, yelling to the bored waiter. “another round of your finest and cheapest beer, sir!”

 

harry chuckles a bit, before sitting beside liam and patting him gently on the back. “is it about zayn?”

 

“when isn’t it?” niall nods his head in the direction of the dancefloor.

 

“shut up, you don’t understand,” liam mumbles, his face still very much against the tabletop.

 

“what was that, mate?” niall reaches over the table to pull liam’s head of the table. after liam repeats himself more coherently, niall let’s go off his head, allowing it to hit the hard surface yet again. “there we go, some nice, clear english!”

 

louis laughs, “we don’t even know what you’re saying half the time, nialler.”

 

harry smirks at him from across the table, just as the waiter sets down four glasses of beer. louis ignores the goosebumps poking into his skin and the flush settling in his cheeks. christ.

 

he’s not some fifteen year old girl with a crush... granted, he is a twenty one year old with a crush on the newest addition to his group of mates, so he’s really _not_ that much better either.

 

“my last dying wish is that harry never treats me the way you cynical lads do,” niall says wistfully, before downing his beer and pointing his empty glass at harry, “i know that louis is very influential and… and i don’t remember where i was going with this. but be nice to me, please. i’m fragile.”

 

“so is louis,” harry unhelpfully points out, a teasing lilt to his voice, “look at him, all tiny and pouty.”

 

niall laughs louder than necessary and throws his arm around louis’ shoulder, lightly caressing his cheekbones, “my tiny, 5’7” son.”

 

“i’m 5’9” and older than you, ni.” louis huffs out indignantly, glaring at harry for encouraging such behavior.

 

tonight is about making fun of liam, not being lured into thoughts of how easy it would be for harry to manhandle him and how much louis might actually want him to. which is, like, not at all. because he’s an adult and can restrain himself. _harry could also restrain him, with his big hands and-_

“don’t be silly, lou. i love you no matter what! at every height! even though you’ve been the same height since middle school… but nonetheless!” niall tightens his hold on louis, and hums a few bars to a pre-teen justin bieber tune.

 

any night, louis would be basking in the knowledge that niall’s his #1 fan, but this time, harry’s watching louis’ every move and smirking to himself. which shouldn’t be allowed, because his green eyes are playful, but his pretty red lips are curling crookedly and it’s just too much for louis (and his dick) to deal with.

 

“liam’s been in love with zayn since middle school,” he says weakly, pointedly ignoring harry’s stare.

 

liam lifts his head at that and looks at the dance floor, before downing the lukewarm beer in front of him. “zayn’s gone, can we head out now?”

 

-

 

liam’s arm is weighing down on louis’ shoulder throughout their walk back to the flat. he's mumbling something about how he spent months growing his hair back just for zayn to leave him for a one night stand. it doesn't make sense, but louis indulges him anyways and nods eagerly when liam looks at him for assurance.

 

“your hair’s certainly less ugly than usual.”

 

liam looks like a sleepy golden retriever as he yawns, “thanks, tommo. you’re my best mate, i love you too.”

 

which isn’t the proper response, but louis lives for having his ego stroked.

 

niall and harry are walking two paces ahead of them and louis’ pretty sure that he’s going to die if he hears the lyrics “i know you love me, i know you care” come out of niall’s mouth one more time.

 

“is that the only song you know by him? and the only lyric you know as well?” harry groans, looking over his shoulder at louis for help. louis shrugs unhelpfully.

 

“excuse me, mate?” niall looks terribly affronted and sobers up considerably, clearing his throat before defending himself, “justin drew bieber, born march 1, 1994 is a canadian singer and songwriter. bieber's current manager, scooter braun, first discovered him through his youtube videos in 2007. braun, as noted, was impressed with the videos resulting in contacting bieber's mother…”

 

-

 

“the kids, minus zayn, are all tucked in and snoozing.” harry reports as he joins louis on the couch, with two mugs of steaming tea in his ridiculously large hands. “chamomile with one milk.”

 

louis curls his hands around the mug and closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of the hippy tea harry prepared him. at least he didn’t put any sugar in it. he opens his eyes to see harry watching him with a smile on his lips and raises his own eyebrow. “alright?”

 

“alright, just admiring my fit mate.” he says easily, taking a sip of the tea and keeping his eyes on louis.

 

“let me know when you’re finished,” louis chuckles and tries to ignore the feels of color rushing into his cheeks. he nudges harry gently, “you don’t have to butter me up, you know? you’re already in, mate.”

 

harry wiggles his eyebrows at that and his smile turns crooked as he nudges louis back, “i’m already in?”

 

and, oh. yeah. double meanings and all that.

 

“in with us lads,” louis takes another sip and looks away, shrugging in what he hopes is a nonchalant manner.

 

“maybe a bit clearer, yeah?”

 

louis shakes his head, “you scared by a little ambiguity, tough guy?”

 

“tough guy?” harry’s smile grows, looking perfectly serene as he takes a sip of tea. “personally, i’m excited by ambiguity. especially between us.”

 

“there’s absolutely none between us, we have a strictly business relationship.”

 

harry tilts his his head to the side and eyes louis, “i wouldn’t label the mood you get into around 3 a.m. as ‘strictly business’, lou.”

 

“i have no mood and zero emotions at 3 a.m., harold.” louis shoots him a stern look, even though a smile is threatening to tug at his lips.

 

“not true. i’m convinced that 3 a.m. louis would let me do anything without batting an eyelash.”

 

louis pokes harry’s calf with his big toe, “did you end up on a yahoo answers page about somnophilia when you were 15 or something? is this your way of acting out?”

 

harry nods eagerly, a mischievous glint in his eyes and louis very much appreciates this boy’s commitment to indulging his sense of humor.

 

“get your mind out of the gutter, pal.”

 

“it’s hard to when i spend such long periods of time with you,” harry chuckles, tacking on a “dude” at the end of his sentence for good measure.

 

louis smiles a bit at that and can’t help himself as he replies with, “didn’t quite hear that. mind repeating what’s long and hard, bro?”

 

“ah. you got riddles, buddy?” harry’s dimples are so, so prominent as they contour his big smile.

 

“mhm,” louis sets his mug on the coffee table and leans back against the couch, “muchos riddles, amigo.”

 

harry mimics his actions and settles back against the couch, petting louis’ soft hair, “think you need to brush up on your spanish, compadre.”

 

“tomorrow,” louis promises, as his head lulls towards the warm crook of harry’s neck.

 

“tomorrow,” harry nods, pressing a light kiss to louis’ forehead.

 

it’s so nice and easy that louis allows himself to close his eyes for a few moments.

 

-

 

apparently louis needs to brush up on not only his spanish skills, but his time management as well. he comes to this rude awakening, when he _literally wakes up_ to a mouthful of curls and something hard pressing into his thigh.

 

he manages to sit up a bit, without waking harry and squints his eyes to read the time on the microwave. it’s only 10:47 on a saturday morning and he thinks he’s had enough contact with harry to last him a lifetime, so he carefully slips under harry’s arm and tiptoes to the kitchen.

 

his back hurts a bit and he feels bad, as he realizes that harry’s back will probably ache a lot more. he’s just finished making two cups of tea, scrambling eggs and putting some bacon on the pan, when he realizes that he also has two other friends nursing hangovers.

 

right. people other than he and harry exist.

 

it’s not his fault he gets instinctively domestic around harry. his body has a rough time figuring out how to deal with soft curls, lazy smiles and deep voices, okay? his mind also has a tendency to turn to goo, around harry, so. it’s definitely not his fault.

 

he’s just being a good mate, pal, lad, etc., he tells himself as he hastily puts more pieces of bread in the toaster and sets about making two more cups of tea.

 

the front door opens quietly and a blissful zayn grins at him from the doorway. louis nods at him and grabs another mug. he’s an incredible friend, really.

 

zayn sits down one of the high bar chairs and rests his elbows on the small countertop. his voice is a bit hoarse and louis winces as he pictures liam’s reaction to that, “everyone still asleep?”

 

“yeah, left the bar pretty late last night.” one side of louis’ mouth tilts up, as he hands zayn a mug. “have fun?”

 

zayn shrugs, “it was okay.”

 

louis nods, as he places five plates on the table. “cool.”

 

he bites back the urge to tell zayn that he doesn’t have to settle for “okay”, when he has such a great person like liam hopelessly in love with him, but he figures it isn’t his place to say anything.

 

things will fall into place eventually.

 

niall shuffles out of his room a few minutes later, sniffing loudly and smiling as he approaches the kitchen. “knew i smelled bacon.”

 

“s’that bacon?” liam yawns, scratching his head and sitting next to niall. he jumps slightly, when he sees zayn but quickly looks away, staring at his plate instead. it’s probably less intimidating, as it lacks the ethereal beauty that zayn has.

 

in his peripheral vision, louis sees harry stretching his gangly limbs, before padding over to the kitchen. “morning,” he has a goofy grin on his face, as he sits beside louis. his voice is sleep-soft, but also a bit raspy and louis has to avert his eyes, swallowing a lump in his throat that he didn’t even realize was there.

 

“morning, h.” he says and reaches for his fork.

 

“nothing like having louis’ meat in your mouth,” harry giggles, _literally giggles._

 

zayn shakes his head fondly, while niall chokes on a piece of bacon and liam pats his back, with a grin on his face.

 

louis blushes like mad, but can’t keep his own face from smiling as he meets harry’s happy eyes.

 

 _yeah,_ he thinks _, things will fall into place eventually._

-

 

he’s just walking outside of his last class of the semester, when he hears his name being called. he pulls out his earbuds and stops, when he sees greg breathing a little heavily to catch up to him.

 

“late to a marathon or something?” he smiles teasingly, as he falls into step beside louis.

 

“possibly, but i can spare a little time for my elders,” louis grins. he likes greg, would probably like greg even more if there wasn’t already a tall, cute boy for him to pine over. “what’s on your mind, gregory?”

 

“well, my young and bright-eyed louis, i have a message for you.” he comes to a stop, as they reach the end of the campus. “grimmy and i are throwing a party to celebrate the end of semester this saturday night at our flat.”

 

“will there be other youngsters like me?” louis smirks at greg’s offended look.

 

“funny,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s still a smile on his face, “you’ll come, right? feel free to invite the lads as well.”

 

the thing is, greg has had a not so subtle crush on louis since he started the evening slot on the university’s radio station. a crush that louis has not made many efforts to recognize, so he probably owes it to greg to show up for once. plus, if it’s nick’s party, harry will be there and it’s not like louis wants to make him jealous _or could even make him jealous,_ but like. it’s not a bad idea.

 

he ends his internal debate, by nodding cooly. “yeah, sounds good.”

 

“great! i have to be at the station in a few minutes, but i’ll text you the address, yeah?” he squeezes louis’ shoulder, before walking away.

 

-

 

**Group Chat: LADS (and liam too , i guess)**

 

**Louis**

_fancy a party at greg and grimshaw’s flat this sat , lads??_

 

**Liam**

_flat this sat ? hahaha mate wahts tht even mean davinicc code kinda thing lol_

 

**Zayn**

_party. at their flat. on saturday, li ..?_

 

**Liam**

_oh i c lol!!!_

**Louis**

_you’re literally 60 years old ._

 

**Niall**

_hahah louis ! ur a right laugh mate!!!!! :) party sounds great , we’ll smash it !_

 

**Liam**

_dnt make fun of me plzz guyss… but yea good plan !!!!_

**Zayn**

_yeah im in :)_

 

**Harry**

_sounds like fun, lou. i look forward to it .x H_

 

**Zayn**

_kk_

 

**Louis**

_i’m so glad harry ends his texts with his initial , how else would i know it’s him ?_

 

**Liam**

_hahaha wht mate??? dnt u have his # saved in ur fone tho?_

 

**Louis has removed Liam from the conversation.**

**Niall has renamed the conversation to “yop me aul lads !”**

**Niall**

_ahah see ya liam ! all the love. N_

 

**Harry has removed Niall from the conversation.**

**Zayn has renamed the conversation to “ask harry if he gives a motherfuck ?!!”**

**Louis has left the conversation.**

**Harry**

_sweet cheeks :( where’d you go? H_

 

**Zayn**

_hey bro , theres ppl in the world other than louis u know ? smh_

 

**Zayn has left the conversation.**

 

-

 

“to free the nipple or not to free the nipple… that, my dear friends, is the question. whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer hard nipples-”

 

“in the 7 years i’ve known you, i’ve never once seen you with nipples that weren’t erect.” zayn interjects, without looking up from the masterpiece he’s currently doodling on louis’ computer desk.

 

louis’ about to declare a moment of silence, before realizing that having something other than three-dimensional penises drawn on his desk could be a nice change.

 

“i don’t think that’s fair,” niall says, as he plops onto louis’ bed.

 

“thank you, niall! this is why you’ve always been my fav-”

 

“i’d say that louis’ nipples have been standing proudly ever since harry came into the picture,” he laughs maniacally and louis doesn’t hesitate to smack him across the face.

 

“don’t ya think it’s a little early in the night for such rough play, lou?” harry smirks, all six glorious feet of him leaning against the doorway and _oh, yeah. he’s here..._ wearing dark skinny jeans that cling to his mile-long legs and a black, half-buttoned up sheer blouse that exposes his milky skin. his green eyes are gleaming and his plump lips are quirked in amusement, _he’s so fucking radiant._

 

just the sight of him makes louis weak in the knees. later, he’ll curse himself for silently hoping that he’d end up on his knees for harry at some point during the night.

 

those aren’t the kinds of thoughts normal friends have about each other. unfortunately, harry and louis are very much _just friends,_ so… louis’ cock really needs to settle down.

 

seriously, louis should not be held accountable for his actions, when harry styles and his bared chest are involved.

 

louis blinks slowly and offers a weak smile, “a little rough play never killed nobody?”

 

“i suppose not,” harry beams back at him, before sitting down beside niall, “where’s li?”

 

“who knows?” zayn shrugs indifferently, but louis knows he’s actually quite interested. after all, louis _would_ know as he’s the expert of disguising one’s affections toward their best mate.

 

the difference is that it’s mutual in zayn and liam’s case, while there’s no universe in which harry could ever see him as anything other than a close friend.

 

niall yawns and instead of checking the time on the phone in his hand, he looks at his wrist (which does not have a watch on it), “he’s still getting ready, i think. dress to impress.”

 

“who’s liam got to impress?” confusion and disappointment brim in zayn’s eyes, as he finally looks up from the desk.

 

“it’s a mystery, alright,” louis mumbles, as he eyes himself in the mirror one time. he ignores the fact that his nipples are poking through his thin, white shirt.

 

he doesn’t even notice that harry’s ogling him and biting down on his bottom lip.

 

liam’s head pops in the doorway, “hey, i’ve been ready for five hours! maybe you lot would know, if you stopped indulging tommo’s nipple situation.”

 

as they make their way outside of the flat, harry stops louis with a hand on his back and his lips brush his ear, “in my humble opinion, i think that your nipples deserve to be indulged.”

 

“yeah?” louis ignores the fact that his skin automatically burns at harry’s touch and cowardly laughs, sounding fake even to his own ears, “jesus, harold. we haven’t even started drinking yet.”

 

harry frowns, before nodding his head slowly and if he walks a bit faster than louis can keep up with, it’s no one’s business but his own.

 

-

 

louis lost his boys about ten minutes into the party, but he figures that they can fend for themselves.

 

he’s currently in the kitchen, sitting on a marble counter and half-listening to one of greg’s stories. louis realizes that allowing greg to hover between his legs and gently rest one hand on his knee is probably counterproductive to the whole “letting him down easy” thing. but he’s also had too many drinks to bring himself to care all that much.

 

besides, he doubts that harry’s even noticed his absence.

 

“want another?” greg gestures to the empty cup in his hands, to which louis nods eagerly and mumbles a ‘thanks’, when he’s finally left alone.

 

not even a minute has passed before he feels a firm hand on his thigh.

 

he looks up, only to be faced with the sight of a very heated harry styles, arched brows, tight jaw and all.

 

“hi?”

 

harry rolls his eyes and his hold on louis’ thigh tightens, without realizing that it does more to arouse louis than intimidate him, “hi? that’s all you have to say after you abandon me as soon as we arrive,” _and_ _okay, that’s a bit of dramatization, even for the theatre junkie in louis,_  “then let some guy put his dirty hands on you, while feeding you drink after drink?”

 

louis lets a startled laugh out of that and looks at the floor, as he attempts to compose his thoughts. which is rather hard, when he’s struggling to not melt under the heat of harry’s hand and the fire in his stare. he’s never seen harry act like this and it’s muddling all of the coherency he possesses in his buzzed state.

 

he might be half-hard as well, but that’s a different matter.

 

he settles for sighing and finally meeting harry’s eyes, “his dirty hands, haz? also, since when is greg just ‘some guy’?”

 

_it’s not the worse thing he could’ve said in his drunken stupor, he reasons, he could’ve admitted that he’s been harboring feelings for harry for quite some time now — which probably would have been the worse thing he could say._

 

harry scowls, “since when is greg more than just ‘some guy’?”

 

“i never said he was,” louis chides.

 

harry opens his mouth as if he has a million and one things to say, but ultimately he just looks away and lets go of louis’ thigh. “right… should probably get you home.”

 

“yeah, okay,” louis agrees without much deliberation and jumps off the counter.

 

they’re just outside of nick and greg’s building, when harry pulls out his phone to text the others that they’re leaving.

 

louis takes this opportunity to really look at him and immediately feels a pang of guilt, when he sees how tense harry looks. he knows that harry couldn’t possibly be so upset over being left alone, when he’s a got the social prowess of a _fucking tiger_ and could charm anyone with the flash of his perfect teeth.

 

it doesn’t make sense to him, the whole night doesn’t make sense. however, he does end up walking home with harry holding him close, so it’s probably okay that it doesn’t make much sense.

 

“m’sorry,” he whispers, when harry’s pulling the duvet cover over him.

 

harry's expression softens a bit and he nods, lightly tracing his fingers over louis’ cheekbones. it makes louis' skin shiver in frustration.

 

“me too.”

 

it’s probably okay.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...yeah, i have no excuse. sorry for the almost 2 year delay  & thank you for the supportive messages.  
>    
> a lil madness ensues below. x

waking up next to harry is slowly becoming a thing.

sadly, it's a bad thing, because it enables louis to want what he can't have. it tampers with his emotions and leads his hopeful heart astray from his logical mind. it’s absolutely frustrating, because the tactile nature of his friendship with harry makes it so easy to forget that they're _just friends._ this inevitably leads louis to harbor feelings of contempt towards harry, even though it’s the last thing he wants to feel and the last thing that harry deserves.

he doesn’t deserve it because it’s not even his fault, it’s actually louis’ fault for having the inability to distinguish between playful banter and flirting with intent. harry hasn’t lead him on, all he's done is be a good friend. _he views you as a friend, nothing more and nothing less,_ louis reminds himself. 

after months of watching harry stumble out of clubs with miscellaneous people, this mantra has become louis’ second skin. it’s on the tip of louis’ tongue, every time the younger boy views another person with stars glowing in his eyes and craters forming in his cheeks. louis simply takes a deep breath, averts his eyes and pleads with his heart.

just a friendly thing, that's all it really is to harry. but it's so much more to louis it hurts.

it hurts waking up with curls tickling his ears, long limbs haphazardly thrown against his own, a ghost of a kiss on his head and a hand curled around his waist. it hurts, because he _wants, wants, wants._ he wants it and so much more too. he wants everything with harry.

louis knows he needs to prevent situations like these from happening again. he wants more than he's ever going to get, so he might as well not fuck things up and settle for whatever harry is willing to give him. he tells himself that he’s going to start now, as he reluctantly acknowledges how their big spoon and little spoon act in louis' bed is probably counteractive to his plans of moving past his unrequited feelings.

at the moment, louis has just finished having his tiny internal crisis and is finely tuned into the fact that harry's hips are gently rocking against his bum. there's also only two layers of fabric between his cock and louis' arse.

the air in the room thickens with heat, but louis forces himself to be cold. 

just as louis lifts the heavy arm off his chest, he hears harry stirring behind him. he immediately pauses.

"lou?" harry mumbles, as his mouth brushes the nape of louis’ neck. it sends shivers down his spine and waves through to his core. he hopes harry doesn’t notice.

louis tenses up slightly and croaks, "morning."

he feels harry freeze behind him for a moment, before he bursts into laughter and releases louis from his strong hold. his cheeks are slightly rosy from embarrassment, as he gets up from the bed and runs to the bathroom.

harry throws a _morning wood_ joke over his shoulder and louis’ forced laughter sounds fake even to his own ears.

 

-

 

“why does your waist dip in like that?”

louis averts his attention from his pistachio ice cream cone and fixes niall with a puzzled look, “like what?” 

niall unsuccessfully mimics the shape of an hourglass with his one freehand, while licking his own ice cream cone. “that.” 

louis turns to zayn for help, but zayn sheepishly shrugs as he picks up a spoonful of his gelato, “i’ve always wonder about that too, if i’m being honest.”

“you’re fine just the way you are, zayn,” liam mutters under his breath, before getting up to throw his half-finished dessert out, “i’ll just be a second, lads.”

no one says anything about the fact that there’s a bin located _inside_ of the dessert shop, yet liam headed outside. 

harry speaks up for the first time, since the five of them settled into a modern table at _Scoop & Crumb_, “back to the very important matter at hand… just how do you do it, louis?” there’s a teasing inflection to his words that louis regards as ridicule. to louis’ ears, it sounds less like interest in niall’s question and more like harry seizing an opportunity to mock him.

louis is painfully aware that he has curves that taper off into an unusually thin waist. he’s aware that his ankles, wrists, and collarbones are dainty. he’s aware that his cheekbones are high, that his nose button-like with freckles dotted across its delicate bridge, and that his eyelashes span like butterfly wings, when he’s looking downwards. he knows all of this and more, because harry never lets him forget it.

he’d always figured that harry’s disinterest in him rooted from the surface, since most of harry’s conquests were the polar opposite of louis physically. they were always tall and broad, characterized by hard, masculine features. louis had always hoped that his loud personality would overshadow his quiet features, and force harry to view him in a non-platonic lens. but it’s been months and it hasn’t happened.

“i’m gonna check on liam,” louis mumbles, aiming to keep the hurt that is swelling inside of him away from his voice, as he walks off.

zayn and niall launch into another conversation, but harry isn’t listening. the line of his bow lips are sloping into a downturned line, as he watches louis’ retreating figure with confusion brimming in his eyes. louis doesn’t notice, as per usual.

 

“you alright, mate?” louis places a comforting hand on liam’s shoulder, it’s solid with tension, yet shakes slightly under louis’ palm.

louis knows the feeling.

liam’s shoulders slump further, as he looks up from the street bin. “i can’t fucking do this anymore, lou. i really can’t. i can’t keep pretending that i’m okay with being his friend and hearing about his current partner, when he’s all i’ve thought about for the past fucking 3 years.” a thin, wet layer coats liam’s brown eyes and filters through his lashes, when he tries to blink away the inevitable tears. 

louis lets out a heavy breath and bites his lip, because he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. he desperately wishes he had something of substance to say, but their situations are only parallels to a certain degree.

they’re both pining for one of their best friends, but the key difference is that in every universe, zayn returns liam’s feelings tenfold. before he can delve into his own internal crisis though, louis finds his arms full and his neck slightly damp. he shakes his head to rid himself of thoughts of harry and wraps his arm securely around liam, focusing on his best friend who is teetering along the fragile line of a breakdown.

after a few beats have passed and liam’s breathing is less erratic, louis pulls back and guides him down the street, “let’s head back to the flat, yeah? i don’t imagine you’d want to go back in there.”

“i don’t want to go back to the flat either, louis. i can’t face zayn tonight,” liam pulls up his hood and risks a glance back at the shop. “fuck, can they see us?”

louis shakes his head, as he pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contact list, “we’re out of sight.”

“and out of mind, because zayn never spares me a single thought…” liam trails off for a moment, then glances at louis cautiously, “you’re lucky, you know.”

louis types out a reply to ed, still not meeting liam’s thoughtful gaze, “and why is that?”

liam shrugs, “because your feelings are mutual. you don’t have to suppress your feelings forever; you’re just waiting for the moment you’re both ready.”

louis eyes leave his phone’s screen in a split second and the cold wind doesn’t bother him in the slightest. he feels warm. he tries to bring himself back to reality, where he’s rooted to the ground, with his mind racing and his heart beating with possibility. he tries to process liam’s words, but knows there’s no way. _liam doesn’t know what he’s talking about_ , he tells himself.

“you’ve got it reversed, mate.” he eventually says, hooking his thumb over his shoulder and struggling to keep his tone light, “let’s head over to ed’s then?”

liam shrugs again and follows him without any further objection, so louis figures that there was no weight to his words.

 

they end up staying the night at ed’s flat, with liam and ed crashing after multiple rounds of fifa and beer. louis had put his phone on silent earlier in the evening, after texting the group chat that liam had a stomach ache, so they were heading out. he falls asleep, before he can check his phone again. harry’s calls and messages go unanswered.

 

Harry: _Are you and Liam okay? Did you go to a hospital or something?_

Harry: _Lou._

Harry: _Will you text me when you’re home safe?_

Harry: _Z says that neither of you are home yet. He’s worried too…._

Harry: _I hope you’re okay. Call me whenever you can. Good night, Louis. x_

-

 

the next two days are torturous.

liam and zayn schedule their times at the flat around each other, effectively avoiding any interaction between the two of them only. zayn spends most of his time in his art studio and returns home two hours later than usual. liam leaves two hours earlier than he usually does, spends hours at the gym and runs straight into his room when he comes back home. 

louis understands the desire to run and run and run until there’s so much distance between you and the one you’re pining over, that you start to believe that you’re over them. the sad truth is that the space only strengthens the bond and reinforces the emotions you’re trying to push into the foreground. 

he thinks about sitting the two of them down, investing in a projector and leading a presentation on why they should be together. it would only last a minute, since the one slide in the presentation would simply read, “reason #1: you’ve been in love with each other for 3 years”, in comic sans. if louis has time to spare, he might even dabble in photoshop and edit a picture of them kissing. it would be visual proof of how good they’d be together. you can never have too many sources.

however, his plan falls through, when he texts niall with his brilliant idea and receives a rather discouraging stream of texts.

 

Niall: _no no no no no_

Niall: _don’t u fuckin dare !!!!!!!!_

Niall: _if u don’t let ppl meddle in ur luv life, how r you gonna meddle in someone else’s?? Explain_

Niall: _just let the dumb twats figure their shit out themselvess_

Louis: _at this rate, they never will !_

Niall: _sounds familiar …_

Louis: _???_

Niall: _Nvm. but here’s a plan, come over to mine & H’s! let them have a night alone at the flat 2gether_

Louis: _how tf does that not count as meddling ?_

Louis: _“explain”_

Niall: _shut up , it’ll wrk. trust me_

Niall: _bring thai food when u come over? Thnx mate_

Louis: _i haven’t agreed to any of what u said._

Niall: _thnx m8_

Louis: _are you reading my texts_

Niall: _ya , see u soon <3_

 

louis tells himself that he’s not betraying liam or zayn’s trust for the millionth time, as he knocks on the door in front of him. he’s clutching the takeaway bag in one hand and tapping his thigh with his other hand nervously.

harry answers the door and louis feels like a complete idiot, for not even considering the very high possibility that he’d run into _harry_ at _harry’s_ flat.

harry raises an eyebrow and leans his long body against the threshold, “well, i thought i’d never see you again.”

louis clears his throat and fixes his lips into a pathetic attempt at a smile, “don’t be dramatic, now…”

“right. how’ve you been? have you been okay? you never replied to my texts,” harry nods for louis to enter the flat and closes the door behind him with a little more force than necessary. 

“crashed at ed’s that night and, uh, my phone died?”

“did it?” 

“yes?” 

“yes?”

“yes,” louis stresses out the ‘s’ sound and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. the bag of takeaway is resting in the crook of his folded arm and it burns a bit, but he doesn’t want to attract any more attention to himself so he patiently waits for harry to stop his interrogation.

thankfully, niall enters the living room and claps his hands together loudly, “tommo, you brought food! right on, mate,” he takes the warm bag out of louis’ hands and plops into one of the two bar stools at their table, already distributing the boxes, “are you done staring at each other? let’s eat.”

heat curls in the pit of louis’ stomach, when he realizes that he has to sit on the same chair as harry. it’s never been a problem in the past, but louis has also never been so in tune with how quickly he forgets about boundaries when it comes to harry.

harry sits down and follows louis with a challenge in his eyes. louis is never one to disappoint, so he takes the few steps toward him.

“you forgot to get napkins,” niall groans, his chin already covered in sauce as he heads to the bathroom to wash the red dripping off his chin.

louis looks at harry, who’s still watching him with softened eyes. louis nods at the empty chair, “i could sit with niall, if you want?" 

“what? no, i don’t want that,” harry’s brows inch together in befuddlement and he pushes his chair back from the table, so louis has more room to sit on his lap, “sit with me.”

louis nods, because he doesn’t trust his voice and settles down on harry’s warm thighs. harry ruts forward in one motion, in order to bring their chair closer to the table and louis bites down on his lip until the flush of pink has faded to white.

a curl falls into his line of vision and he feels harry’s bottom lip moving above his ear, “we’re okay, right?”

there’s a pleading tone to his voice and louis cranes his neck back to make eye contact, when he nods more confidently this time. harry looks nervous and louis hates to think that he’s ruining their friendship, hates to think that he’s hurting this sweet boy’s feelings and hates to think that he’s putting harry in an uncomfortable situation.

“always, h. i just, um,” he flounders for a second, before stretching the truth a bit, “you know how liam feels about zayn, right? lately, he’s gotten it into his mind that zayn could never feel the same, so he’s been down and distancing himself…” louis swallows the lump in his throat, as he notices how eerily similar liam’s recent actions mirror his own, “i was just trying to be a good friend to him, but i didn’t realize that i wasn’t being that good of a friend to you… uh, the rest of you lot, by only focusing on him.”

harry offers louis his first smile in two days and louis wants to cry, because it fills the void inside of him with light and hope. he hugs louis from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder and looking up at him through his fluttery lashes, “i never thought that, i was just worried about you. but for the record, i always think you’re the best, louis. you’re selfless, caring and absolutely lovely.”

louis can’t help but smile instantly, his cheeks burning and his eyes searching harry’s, “you too, curly.”

niall clears his throat, as he sits down and tosses a wad of napkins at them. it only takes seconds for the three of them to fall into banter and louis smiles to himself, as he patiently watches harry drag out a short story for ten minutes.  

he had been stupid to ever think that he could stay away from harry.

a few hours later, niall had long since retired to his bedroom, leaving harry and louis on the couch.

they’re lying feet to head, which is an odd fit since the couch isn’t that wide, so louis side is pressed up tightly to the younger boy. harry nudges louis’ head with his toe, “hey, louis?”

louis sticks out his tongue at the offending toe and guffaws, when harry sneakily tries to sneak it in his mouth.

“hey, louis?” harry repeats, with a residual smirk on his lips.

louis shakes his head sternly, but has a smile of his own ghosting his lips, “nope, nope. no more footplay for you, h.”

harry giggles at that, before pulling himself into an upright position easily and bringing his knees to his chest. louis gulps and blinks a few times to rid his mind of visions of harry’s abs.

“really, though. i have a question,” his voice is sincere, so louis sighs and rests his hand down on harry’s knee. he absentmindedly traces ‘L’ over harry’s jeans and doesn’t quite notice the concentration in harry’s eyes as he follows louis’ finger.

“yeah?” he prompts.

“you know that zayn loves liam too, right?”

louis looks up from his tracing patterns and laughs, “um, yeah? i think anyone with eyes, other than liam, can see that zayn loves liam back… why?”

harry sets his hand on top of louis’ and squeezes it for a fleeting moment, before he relaxes back into a lying down position and closes his eyes. there’s a serene sense of calm draping his facial features, as he yawns, “just checking.”

 

-

 

he’s scared to go home the following morning, but gets texts from a newly created group chat that reassure him.

 

Group Chat

Zayn: _Hey boo bear, you can come home after 12. it’ll be safe by then x_

Liam: _he he lol_

Liam: _wait ,…_ _not tht its dangerus rn. we’re just u kno ;)_

Zayn: _…Or maybe come home earlier, Lou._

Liam: _:(_

Zayn: _Just kidding. 12 or later xx_

Louis: _i’m literally going to be there at 12 on the dot, im so fucking happy you idiots have seen the light_

Louis: _as well as each other’s cocks <3_

he truly is happy for them, a wide grin splitting his face as he shows the texts to harry and niall. he’s so fixated on the recent development, that he doesn’t notice the nudge and knowing look that niall shoots harry’s way. 

it’s only as he’s clinking glasses with the newfound couple at a pub that night, that he realizes how his situation with harry is never going to end up like liam and zayn’s.

the realization stings only slightly less than the rum and coke he raises to his frowning lips.

 

-

 

even though the university is closed for the summer, the university radio station has remained open and offered louis more permanent hours.

that’s where he finds himself on friday night, while his friends are out on the town. he had sadly declined the other four boys, when they proposed a pub crawl, had said he was busy at the radio station, but would try to join next time.

as he waits for the latest rihanna track to come to a close, he tries not think about harry’s hips, hands and lips attached to another faceless boy in a club. he tries not to think about harry throwing his arm over someone else’s shoulder and leading them back to his flat. he tries not think about harry touching every inch of someone else’s skin and coming with their name on his lips. he sighs and reminds himself that he has no say over harry’s love life, and goes back to working on next week’s playlist.

there’s a soft knock on the door and greg enters promptly after, with two generously sized iced coffees and a pastel pink bag with _boulangerie_ written on it.

“i come bearing gifts, young one,” greg grins, handing one of the iced coffees and a brownie over to louis. he doesn’t hesitate to grab another chair and wheel it over, so he can sit beside louis. “thought you might need some energy for your late night shift.”

louis bites into the brownie and licks his lips in appreciation, he also pretends that he doesn’t notice the way greg’s eyes trail the movement for a short second. instead, his mouth pulls up into a smile and he says, “thanks, gregory. #1 boss for sure.”

greg’s eyebrows raise at that and he finishes his sip, before replying, “you think of me as your boss then?”

“more or less,” louis shrugs. greg isn’t _literally_ his boss, but him and nick grimshaw are the two students in charge of delegating slots and hiring new hosts, so he might as well be.

greg whistles, “how do you feel about boss and employee relationships, louis?”

“is this a test?” louis huffs and narrows his eyes in mock outrage. 

“not at all, just a little bit of curiosity,” greg laughs and swivels in his chair so he’s facing louis. his legs are thin and gangly, spanning a decent amount of the floor.

louis ignores the voice in his head that points out how much he prefers long legs consisting of soft thighs and firm calves. he decides that he should probably just make eye contact with greg, instead of allowing his gaze to fall and compare every part of his anatomy to harry’s. however, his eyes present yet another problem, as their colour lies somewhere in between blue and green – which doesn’t help to remove the reminders of harry from louis’ mind.

louis rubs his temples and forces himself to snap out of it. he tunes back into what the other man is saying, just in time to hear the name of the person he’s trying _not_ to think of.

“wait, what?” 

“i asked if you were aware grimmy is interested in harry,” greg repeats casually.

which, what the fuck?

louis can feel his eyebrows knitting towards the center of his forehead in confusion, but he tries to school his expression into one of nonchalance. he opts for a nod and says, “uh, no? i wasn’t… i mean, i’m aware that they’re friends, as _i’m_ the one that introduced them at our christmas party, remember? they hit it off talking about farmer’s markets and artisanal shit, so i’m not surprised that they enjoy each other’s company. but as far as i know and from what i’ve seen, they’re just friends.”

“see? i thought the same thing and then,” greg gulps down his iced coffee for a few moments that seem like eternity to louis, who is pleading to the gods that he’s not about to hear what he thinks he’s about to hear. “nick comes up to me and asks if there’s anything going on between _you_ and harry, to which i say that i don’t think so. that… that is correct, though. right?”

louis nods robotically, his voice sounding dead in comparison to greg’s animated tone, “yup. just friends, nothing more.”

“right… so, then he tells me that he’s asked harry out, but harry hasn’t given him a clear answer yet,” greg pauses and scratches the back of his neck, “this is where it gets awkward, because nick knows that you and i get on well, so… he wanted me to ask you if harry’s rejecting him, because you’re his best friend and nick’s your boss?”

louis wants to laugh. he also wants to cry and honestly, he probably will do both when he gets home. the thing is, he likes grimmy. he’s a decent person and has a similar sense of humor. however, he never saw him as a threat and suddenly wants to punch himself for ever introducing them. but on the other hand, harry barely goes on dates and always lets louis know if he’s seeing someone in broad daylight… so, it’s more likely that harry was just thinking of a kind way to say he wasn’t interested. louis tries not to delight in that fact for too long and snaps back into reality, where he knows he can’t stall for an answer any longer. 

“greg, i assure you that harry doesn’t even spare me a thought, when he’s pursuing someone,” liam’s words are leaving louis’ mouth and he wants to take them back immediately, but a small part of him echoes back that they’re probably true. he continues on in a strained tone that greg doesn’t acknowledge, “he’s probably just not interested in grimmy like that, i’d say. by this point, he probably just sees him as a friend… if something was going to happen between them, it would’ve happened by now.”

louis definitely wants to cry. he wants to cry, because his words don’t only apply to nick, but his fucking self. as much as he enjoys greg’s company, he wants to be left alone so he can finally accept the fact that harry will never see him as anything more than a good friend.

for a split second, he considers ringing up grimmy and proposing that they throw a pity party for two. a shindig for people rejected by harry. a broken hearts club. group therapy, if you will.

“so, what you’re saying is that i need to purchase a copy of _He’s Just Not That Into You_ for my best friend?” greg attempts to lighten the mood and if there’s anything louis can appreciate, it’s a distraction.

he laughs and they fall into a comfortable silence, before louis realizes he doesn’t want to give the wrong impression, “hey, greg… i don’t know how to say this, but-” 

greg is chuckling, before louis can even finish his sentence, “louis, darling, don’t worry about turning me down. as enticing as you are, i too think we’re better off as mates.” he offers his fist up for a lame fist bump, which louis rolls his eyes at, but bumps anyways.

louis grins, as he plays the next track, “lads.”

“lads,” greg says very seriously, looking off into the distance, “two bottoms don’t make a top.”

louis chokes on his straw at that and can barely contain his disbelief, “listen, big friendly giant, there’s no way-”

“hey, don’t put me in a box, tomlinson!” the taller lad looks affronted for a second, before waggling his eyebrows, “after all, i think harry’s a better match for you anyways.”

louis is about to blurt out an excuse, when greg holds up his hand calmly, “louis, i’m not blind… and i’m also not loose-lipped, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“sorry… it’s just so frustrating, because it’s never going to happen.”

greg looks like he doesn’t quite believe that, but nods anyway and steers the conversation towards a different direction. the remaining hours pass by quickly in a flurry of jokes and anecdotes, and louis finds that he doesn’t even attempt to cover his face when greg snaps a picture of him.

his head is thrown back with laughter and half-moons crinkle around his eyes. he looks tiny, yet larger than life at the same time. louis’ eyes flash over the picture contentedly and he ultimately asks greg to send it to him.

louis posts it on his instagram without thinking twice.

 

louist91: _Wide awake, while the sun sleeps #radio1_

as he parts ways with greg and waits at the tube station, he decides to go through his notifications. his natural reaction when he sees that harry has liked and commented on his photo is bewilderment, because he genuinely expected harry to be giving another man his full attention at this late of an hour.

he reads harry’s comment more times than he’d like to admit. he then tells himself not to read into it too much and attempts to nap on the ride home, but the back of his eyelids flicker with images of curls, dimples and green eyes.

 

harrystyles: _You are the sun. x_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope some of you are still interested in this fic & not out for blood, after i abandoned it. let me know, if i should continue. i’d like to make this fic a bit of a shorter one (3-5 chapters), since i have other fics to post, but i don’t want to do that & leave this one incomplete. 
> 
> feel free to yell at me, so i upload faster
> 
> P.S. I'M SO FUCKIN OVER TYPING THIS FIC IN ALL LOWERCASE LETTERS OMG WHY DID MY PRETENTIOUS ASS SELF START THIS FIC LIKE THAT......... would y'all notice if i switched lol
> 
>  
> 
> ♡


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i decided to use proper capitalization for this chapter… i also attempted to proof-read it, so hopefully we don’t have a repeat of “too bottoms don’t make a top” from last chapter. RT if u cried.
> 
> thank you for the kudos, comments & being patient. hope you enjoy. x
> 
> (ALSO HOW THE FUCK DID I FORGET THAT I WROTE ABOUT LOUIS HAVING A PUG????? his pug makes a cameo in this one & he's the real star of the show. louis and harry are shaking.)

It was one the first parties of the new school year and Louis doesn’t remember where it took place, who owned the property or even how he got home that night. He remembers chatting with Eleanor, a girl he vaguely recognized from a previous anthropology class, before feeling the abrupt blow of someone bumping into his back.

“I’m awfully sorry,” the boy breathed his apologetic words out against Louis’ neck, as he steadied the both of them with his ivory hands. Louis remembers staring at the lingering fingers, taking in the callouses and the eclectic set of rings that adorned them. Louis remembers hearing Eleanor politely excuse herself, before he wantonly spun on his heel and lifted his gaze to meet the other boy’s eyes. They were green, Louis remembers. The kind of green that briefly cradles your toes as you walk barefoot through grass, silently pleading with you to stay a moment.

Louis would’ve stayed as many moments as the boy had asked him to.

“When I look down, will I see stilts to match your freakishly long fingers? If so… apology accepted and maybe _I’m_ the one that should be sorry, since you’ve got to deal with Bambi legs.”

Louis mentally patted himself on the back for remaining calm and casual. He honestly deserved several awards for not gaping and dropping to his knees at the sight of the boy in front of him. The gaunt, yet broad figure watching him with sage eyes and a sweet playfulness that cloaked his entire being. His lips quirked up and appearing to be stained with a rich wine that Louis ached to feel on his tongue.

“Is that meant to be an insult? Because I’ll have you know that I’m not about to be offended, when I actually quite enjoyed that movie.” His voice was hard and crisp, perfectly juxtaposing the softness of the curls that framed his face and the subdued nature of his stance. Not to mention the semantics of what he was actually saying.

Louis had shrugged and tilted his head in consideration, “Well, it wasn’t meant to be an insult, but if that’s your favourite Disney movie, then I do actually have a few insults buried away for such an occasion.”

“Now you’re just making assumptions, love. I never said it was my favourite,” the boy had been smiling down at him, a small dimple indenting his cheek.

“No? Alright then. Just tell me it’s _Aladdin_ and you’ll be in my good graces,” Louis insisted.

“As much as I’d love to be in your anything,” Louis remembers gulping at the intentional pause and the appreciative once-over the boy had given him, before he continued on to say, “I’m not a liar.”

“Oh? What’s your false truth then?”

“I wish I could tell you, but that’s confidential information.”

“Wow, bad taste in animated films and won’t even indulge a cute boy. Tragic.”

The right side of the boy’s lips raised into a smirk and his eyes flickered with mischief, “Did you just call yourself cute?”

Louis stood his ground and crossed his arms across his chest, noting the way that the taller boy had bit his lip at the sight of his tattooed forearms. “Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”

“It’s an understatement, darling.”

“Flatter me then.”

He raised his eyebrow at the challenge and let out a breathy whistle, “Easy. You’re so fucking-”

At that moment, Niall had shimmied through the small distance between the two – Louis hadn’t even realized how close they had gotten – and beamed at them, “Louis, this is Harry! I had been meaning to introduce you lot to Harry,” Niall waved at Zayn and Liam, who were idling nearby with solo cups in their hands, “Zayn! Liam! Come meet young Harold.”

Louis doesn’t remember much else from that point in that night. However, he had somehow catalogued every single one of Harry’s quirks. He absentmindedly filed them away, along with his hopes of being more than just friends.

 

Louis sighs from his current perch on the windowsill, as he reflects on that night. Some days, he finds himself wishing he had never gone to that party. He wishes he hadn't met Harry under LED lights and under the influence of alcohol. He thinks about bumping into Harry at a local café, exchanging apologies and shy glances. He wonders if Harry would’ve liked him then. If Harry would’ve flirted with him like Louis has seen him flirt with boys on nights out. He sighs again, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He’s okay, he’s fine. _It’s just a stupid crush_ , he thinks, _it’ll pass._

His pug chooses his moment of weakness to saunter over and nip at Louis’ dangling foot, staring up at him with pleading eyes. Louis takes the cue and lifts him up, letting the black puppy nestle on his lap.

He has just closed his eyes gain, when he feels his phone buzzing in the pocket of his joggers. He doesn’t open an eye, simply slides his finger across the screen until he gets it right and mumbles, “’lo?”

“Hey, Lou.” It’s Harry. Of course it’s Harry, when _isn’t_ it Harry? He has impeccable timing when it comes to the whole ‘invading Louis’ thoughts 24/7’ thing.

“Hey, H.” Louis echoes back.

“Are you busy right now? I can call back later, if it’s not a good moment.”

Louis wants to scold him for being so thoughtful and kind, but opts for shaking his head fondly. “I’m just cuddling with Atticus at the moment. Got plenty of time for you,” he assures.

“Cute. Anyways, I just wanted to know if you’re going to Grimmy’s party tonight?”

Louis jerks at the mention of Nick’s name and almost drops Atticus, who promptly growls at him. Louis apologizes to him, standing up and relocating to the couch, with his phone in one hand and his dog in the other.

“Why are you sorry?” Harry is saying and Louis realizes he still hasn’t answered.

“Oh, shit. That wasn’t meant for you.”

A beat passes and Louis swears he can hear Harry swallowing loudly, before inquiring, “Is, uh, someone else there with you?”

“Atticus… my dog?”

“Right, right,” Harry clears his throat and repeats, “So, are you going?”

“I wasn’t planning on it, no. Are you going?” Louis struggles to keep his tone light, biting his tongue so he doesn’t try to prevent Harry from seeing Nick again.

“Not anymore… I only wanted to go if you were going,” Harry admits.

Louis’ heart doesn’t beat any faster than usual. It doesn’t.

“Harry. You don’t have to be a recluse, just because I don’t feel like going-”

Harry cuts him off gently, “Louis, I don’t feel like going either. I’d much rather spend the evening watching horrible movies with my favourite boy.”

“You should probably talk to him then,” Louis blurts out.

“I already am.”

At this point, Louis can’t deny the volatile change in his heart’s beat. Instead, he tries to deny the sincerity in Harry’s words and laughs softly, “No need to charm me, H. I’m all yours, if you’ll have me.”

“Oh, I will,” Harry purrs into the line.

Louis doesn’t respond, because he’s otherwise occupied with adjusting himself through his joggers.

Harry speaks again, “I’ll be over in half an hour, then?”

“Ace,” Louis croaks.

 

 _Pulp Fiction_ is drawing to a close, but both of them are still wide awake and wired from the sugar-infused hot chocolate that Harry had made. _This is 95% sugar and 5% chocolate,_ Louis had said. _Maybe it’s 100% sugar then?_ Harry had hummed from behind his mug, a brilliant look on his face. Louis felt waves of happiness prickling him in his toes and sailing effortlessly to his mind.

“What film’s next? _Bambi_?”, Louis jokingly suggests, turning on his side, so that he’s facing Harry properly. The knitted blanket draped over them falls in the process, so Harry slides closer and envelopes them both in knit.

“Hmm,” Harry simpers, his right hand playing with some hair strands that have gone rogue from Louis’ usual artfully messy styling. He changes the subject, “Did I ever tell you what my favourite Disney movie is?”

“Nope,” Louis juts out his bottom lip into a pout and schools his expression into a somber one, “You’ve failed to do so. Some kind of man you are.”

Harry inches closer, handling Louis with nimble hands until he’s able to wrap both arms around the smaller boy’s torso. Harry’s head rests on Louis’ left shoulder and instead of responding, he simply breathes in calmly. Louis stares down at the hands clasped around him and gulps. He eyes the fingers that have clouded his vision for months, his mouth parting slightly on its own accord. He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

Harry eventually speaks again, “ _Peter Pan._ ”

“Hmm?” Louis arches an eyebrow in confusion, as he wasn’t quite paying attention. He then realizes he should probably stop ogling the taller boy’s fingers and cranes his neck to view Harry better.

“It’s _Peter Pan_ ,” he repeats, bopping Louis on the rounded tip of his nose, “my favourite Disney movie.”

Louis nods slowly, not quite sure as to why Harry’s telling him in such an earnest way. He gives him a thumbs up in lieu of a response, to which Harry rolls his eyes, but ends up smiling at nonetheless.

“Ask me why,” Harry urges.

Louis puts on his best broadcaster impression and curls his hands to mimic a microphone, which he holds to his mouth, “Harry Styles. Kitchen tiles. Produce aisles. Why, pray tell, is _Peter Pan_ your favourite Disney film?”

Harry’s eyes are crinkled with amusement, as he wraps one hand around both of Louis’ hands. It’s a reminder of the size difference between them and heightens Louis’ senses almost immediately.

Harry lowers his head so he can speak into the makeshift microphone, “Well, Louis. That… is a question.”

“Excellent observation, H. It is indeed a question! That’s why I raised my voice at the end,” Louis aims for exasperation, but knows that his voice is dripping with fond judging by the way Harry smirks at him.

“That’s not a very solid argument.”

“No?”

“Nuh uh,” Harry tsks, his teeth on full display and dimples cradling his wicked grin, “Your voice is always quite high, like a proper little fairy.”

Louis rolls his eyes to distract from the blood rushing to his cheeks, “Shut up. Next you’re gonna tell me that _Peter Pan_ is your favourite film, because Tinkerbell reminds you of me.”

Harry’s lips expand into a perfect ‘o’ and he slaps his palm against his forehead, “I never even made that connection!”

“What connection did you make then?” Louis can’t help but ask.

The smile returns both on Harry’s face and in his voice, “I was starting to believe that Peter’s character was loosely based around you. Now, though, I'm not to sure. Back to the drawing board.”

Louis laughs at that, reaching up to swat at Harry’s chin, “You’re awful.”

“Maybe, but you’re not… Someone has to balance you out,” Harry shrugs sheepishly, easily catching Louis’ hand and holding it against his cheek.

Louis presses his lips together, running his fingers behind Harry’s ear and brushing the soft skin in tiny strokes. “And you think you’re that someone?”’

They stare at each other, eyes saturated with want. Harry hesitantly places his hand over Louis’, leaning in until the only thing separating their lips is a single atom.

Louis’ mind is just adjusting to the heavy change in the atmosphere, when he hears a loud clang, followed by three voices.

“Liam, get up, you’re fine!” Niall is yelling, stepping over the brown-eyed boy’s body and stumbling towards the kitchen. He downs a glass of water and finally acknowledges his two friends frozen on the couch, “Lads, you missed out!”

Zayn looks over, from where he’s helping Liam to his feet and shoots them both an apologetic look, “Sorry, we shouldn’t have barged in.”

Harry hasn’t said anything, he’s just removed his hand and arm from Louis and is staring down at his lap with furrowed eyebrows. Louis takes that as regret and swallows the lump of rejection in his throat. He manages to smile weakly at Zayn, “No need to apologize, it’s your flat too. We we’re just watching a film.”

Zayn nods and guides Liam to his room, who is mumbling the lyrics to what Louis vaguely recognizes as _He Could Be The One_ by Hannah Montana.

Niall drops down on the couch, his head on Harry’s lap and his legs curled up on Louis’ lap. He yawns, “G’night, boys.”

Harry doesn’t meet Louis’ eyes for the rest of the night, simply closes his own and turns his head to the opposite side. Just like that, the moment between them is suspended in the air, along with Louis’ beliefs that Harry could ever like him back.

 

Things fall back to normal and Louis almost wishes they hadn’t. Harry acts as if that night never happened and makes a point of tacking on a ‘friend’, ‘mate’, or ‘lad’ every time he addresses Louis. Every reminder that Harry only views him as a friend is a drop of lemon juice in the open wound of Louis’ hopes.

Louis finds himself thinking up scenarios in which he confronted Harry and they talked through their feelings. Even in the scenarios that confirm unrequited feelings, Louis still feels a sense of relief, because he at least knows the truth. Louis doesn’t let himself think up too many scenarios in which Harry confesses his love, though. It’s an unrealistic, wistful fantasy.

Currently, Louis is battling the urge to only play Lykke Li’s sad songs on the radio. He figures that just because his emotions in embedded in despair and disappointment, he doesn’t have to make his listeners suffer.

(He plays almost every single track from her albums between top 40 songs and calls that a carefully crafted victory.)

He was actually meant to be out with his mates, but Greg had begged him to cover his shift and truth be told, Louis would rather spend hours sitting at the studio than watching Harry writhe against someone else’s body from across the room.

“This next song is _Paris Blue_ by Lykke Li,” Louis says into the microphone, which only serves as another reminder of the night he almost kissed Harry. The opening notes of the song play and Louis can already feel the tears brimming. He doesn’t fight them, figures that he’s alone and no one can see or judge his pitiful self. The tears slosh against his waterline and he feels like a glass that’s overflowing with water. He feels full and vulnerable one second, and empty the next.

 

 _So I didn't kiss you like I should_  
_Didn't grace you like I meant_  
_Never once did I lay my eyes on you_  
_And all along you saw me cry_  
_I'm Paris blue, I miss you_  
_I'm not good enough for you, Paris blue_  
_I'm no good, I'm no good, I'm no good_

 

His phone vibrates against the desk and forces him back to reality. His vision is blurry as he reaches for his phone and he almost laughs at himself for crying so much over someone who’s never even done him wrong. He types in his passcode and opens his Snapchat. His mood lightens as he opens Niall’s snaps first, pictures and videos of the blonde boy looking happy and carefree fill the screen.

Next, he sees Harry’s name and anxiety sizzles through his veins. He prepares for the worst, but is met with a series of drunken selfies and poorly spelled captions. _Miss u tomlnsn_ _:((_  and  _every1 here sucks </3, _and _play me a s ongg on the radioooo!! Theyre playin songs here but theyre no good._

Louis lets out a sigh of relief too soon, as the next photo on the screen is of Harry and Grimmy. His eyes zero in on the fact that Grimmy’s arm is snaked around Harry’s waist and his heart sinks at the hungry look in the older man’s eyes.

 

 _Paris blue, I miss you_  
_I'm not good enough for you, Paris blue_  
_I'm no good, I'm no good, I'm no good_

 

Louis experiences a wide range of emotions, before ultimately setting on anger. His tears have long since dried and the harsh reality has sunken in deep into his bones. The disappointment churns deep in his core, but he focuses on the red he sees when he replays the photo and feels Harry shove his feelings back into his face.

He tells himself to just let it go, be silent and move on at his own pace. He also tells himself that it’s been months and maybe Harry actually does know how he feels. Maybe he’s just taking the piss at this point. Louis doesn’t know what to think, doesn’t want to inaccurately paint Harry out to be a villain for not returning his feelings. It’s not like Harry’s obligated to like him back.

He closes the app and opens up a new text message to Harry. He types out several replies, but deletes every single one until he settles on a neutral message.

 

Louis: _right. i_ _knew it_

He had decided against going home that night, as he didn’t want to risk anything or have his friends interrogate him about the puffiness of his eyes. Ed welcomed him with open arms, no questioning and several rounds of video games.

Around noon, he excuses himself and heads outside for a walk. He ends up at a nearby park and sits on a bench, trying to decipher his next moves in the daylight. But as usual, he receives a text from Harry that deters his plans of getting over him.

Harry: _Hey. I just woke up._

Harry: _I’m sorry about the drunk snaps I sent last night… I’m sure they were cringey._

Louis doesn’t want to be bitter, so he replies back.

Louis: _it was nothing bad, don’t worry._

That’s a lie, but he knows that he can’t keep revisiting his feelings of disappointment if he wants to feel normal around Harry again.

Harry: _Okay… I have a question though._

Louis: _?_

Harry: _What did your last text mean?_

Louis resolutely does not want to answer. He doesn’t know how to tell him the truth, without exposing himself and putting his already squashed heart on the table. He definitely doesn’t need Harry to know how much seeing him with Grimmy affected him, but he knows that Harry will see right through a half-arsed reason.

Louis: _haha i just meant that i knew u & nick would eventually fuck. greg told me he was interested in u_

He can’t even lock his phone, before Harry’s responses are flooding up his screen

Harry: _What the fuck_

Harry: _Nothing happened between us and nothing ever will. I swear._

Harry: _I could never see him that way._

A voice inside Louis laughs cynically at the fact that Harry has never been able to see _him_ in that way either.

Louis: _bet he was crushed, probably should’ve known better though_

Harry: _What’s that supposed to mean, Louis?_

Louis: _that he should’ve known you don’t do relationships_

Harry takes a bit longer to respond and the three dots stir up a storm inside of Louis’ stomach. After two minutes, Harry replies and Louis frowns at the answer.

Harry: _Why would I pursue a relationship with someone else, when I already have a vested interest?_

Louis doesn’t respond, couldn’t if he wanted to. The fact that Harry has feelings for someone else weighs him down for the rest of the walk home.

 

An unexpected knock on the studio door takes Louis’ attention away from the playlist he’s working on, he doesn’t bother to get up, just raises his voice, “Come in!”

“Hey.”

Louis’ shoulders stiffen at the voice immediately. He knows who it is, of course. That voice has become a second skin to him over the past few months, warming him up and cooling him down. As of late, it’s become a skin that he wants to peel off with his fingernails. It belongs to another, someone more deserving of Harry.

He reluctantly swivels his chair and drinks in the sight of the taller boy. He’s towering over Louis in all six feet of his glorious height, with his silk short-sleeved shirt unbuttoned and his legs tightly robed in black denim.

“What are you doing here?” Louis pipes up, feeling extremely underdressed in his sheer black, long-sleeved shirt and Adidas joggers. He fidgets nervously with the cuffs of his sleeves, they hang over his wrists delicately.

Harry shrugs, rolling an empty chair over to sit next to him. It’s similar to the night Louis spent hours talking to Greg, but the difference is Louis feels on edge this time. He’s worried that he’s either going to say too much or too little. He’s worried that he’s going to scare Harry off or find himself frightened. He’s worried that things will never be the same or that they may never change.

Harry still hasn’t uttered a word, so Louis crosses his arms across his chest and gestures for him to go on.

“I just wanted to see you,” Harry mumbles, hooking his right leg over his left and fixing his eyes on Louis’ exposed ankle.

Louis would pull up his socks or adjust the hem of his pants, but he’s worried his hands would tremble the whole time. So, he presses on, “Why though? You would probably have a lot more fun if you were out with the lads or meeting other people-”

Harry’s eyes shoot up immediately and he cuts Louis off with his smooth drawl, “I wouldn’t, trust me. I never do.”

“I think you’re fabricating a bit.”

“I’m not. I could be doing absolutely nothing with you and it would still mean more to me than any amount of drinking, dancing or mingling possibly could,” Harry insists, his eyes are earnest and a veil of pink tints his cheeks.

Louis wishes Harry was drunk. He wishes he was inebriated and spewing lines out, because he simply could. It would be a lot easier to deal with and Louis’ tongue would weigh a lot less in his mouth, if that were the case. Harry looks small next to him, his hands fumbling in his lap but the rest of his body is motionless. He has his sights locked on Louis and it only unsettles Louis’ nerves further.

Louis attempts to laugh it off, his words dangling on the edge of being full of spite, “Good one. No wonder all the boys fall for you.”

Harry shakes his head forcefully, his eyebrows straight and his eyes searching Louis’ own, “There’s no other boys.”

“No?” Louis’ voice is barely a whisper, but Harry hears him nonetheless.

“There’s never been any other boys,” he assures.

Louis’ eyes roll on their own accord, “Harry, that’s just a blatant lie. I’ve _seen_ you with other people… and I mean, no judgment at all, but don’t lie to me like that.”

Harry shakes his head again, curls bouncing against his cheekbones, “I usually can’t go through with it.”

Louis is painfully confused, “What do you mean?”

Harry just sighs, rubbing his temples, “Can we please can talk about something else? My head hurts.”

The older boy desperately doesn’t want to drop the subject, but doesn’t want to force Harry. He nods and turns back in his chair, bringing his laptop onto his lap and tilting it for Harry to see, “Will you help me with the playlist for next week’s show?”

 

Harry listens and agrees with all of Louis’ picks, never offering his own. When only one song is required to finish the slot, Louis points this out. He’s met with a shrug and sheepish smile.

“Sorry for the lack of input, but I genuinely believe that anything you classify as gold must be treasure.”

The sentence makes Louis feel hot all over.

“Cheesy, stop that,” Louis refuses to look away from the laptop screen, afraid that Harry will see the glossed over look in his eyes or see the goosebumps marking his skin. He attempts to keep his tone even, “At least pick one song, Harry.”

Harry relents and picks a song that Louis vaguely knows. Louis is about to make a joke about Harry’s old soul, when Harry is pecking him on the cheek and excusing himself because he has work the next day.

 

Once Louis is on the tube home, he gives in and finds _Black Cloud_ by Morrissey on Spotify. He presses play, leans back in his seat and listens.

 

_The one I love is standing near_

_The one I love is everywhere_

_I can woo you_

_I can amuse you_

_But there is nothing I can do to make you mine_

_How fitting_ , he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think it's almost charming how dumb and oblivious they both are. anyways, 2 more chapters to go !
> 
>  
> 
> ♡


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a bit shorter, but it's important and may or may not make you frustrated. 
> 
> as always, thank you so much for your encouraging words. you're all so lovely! xx

Louis’ following morning consists of checkered tiles, red leather booths, the smell of bacon and the sight of Harry’s angular face being illuminated in pink by the diner’s neon signs. It was meant to be a group brunch, but Liam, Niall and Zayn had insisted that walking would be faster than taking a cab. Clearly, it wasn’t, since there’s only two of them at the diner currently. Louis keeps his eyes casted downward, feigning genuine interest in the menu.

“You’ve been to this diner almost every weekend for the past couple years, Lou. Shouldn’t you know the menu better than the back of your hand?” When Louis lowers the menu back onto the table, Harry is staring at him with an easy smile.

Everything is easy with Harry. Louis is convinced that Harry’s never been plagued by thoughts about someone he couldn’t have. He’s probably never had to confront unreturned feelings, let alone on such a regular basis. Louis is also almost certain that the person Harry said he was interested in is probably already in love with him.

Louis wishes things could be that easy between him and Harry, but that’s just wishful thinking.

“I don’t recall telling you about my diner schedule,” Louis raises an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued.

Harry’s shoulders raise in a somewhat sheepish shrug, “Niall told me.”

“You talk to Niall about my brunch preferences?” Louis’ eyebrow remains arched and he fans his neck with the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling warm all over.

Harry’s eyes trail the movement and the baring of his collarbones. He coughs into his fist, before shrugging once more, “Not exactly… I, uh, talk to Niall about you in general… like, sometimes. Not all the time. Just a healthy amount, you know?”

He doesn’t continue or hold eye contact any longer, so Louis just makes a non-committal noise and reaches for the menu again. Harry stops him with a hand on top of his own, and when Louis looks up, Harry’s staring again.

“Did you listen to the song?”

“What?”

“Did you listen to the song?” Harry repeats patiently, wetting his bottom lip with the swipe of his pink tongue. It’s painfully unfair. “The one I picked for your show.”

“Oh!” Louis squeaks, immediately covering his mouth with his free hand. Harry is doing a poor job of concealing a smile, so Louis slips his hand out from under Harry’s grasp and bops him on the nose a bit harshly. “Shut up, Bambi.”

“I didn’t say anything!” When Louis fixes him with an unimpressed look, Harry holds his hands up in surrender, “Okay, my bad. Sorry for moving the slightest muscle, when your voice broke.”

“Shut up.”

“You know avoiding questions is usually _my_ ballpark,” Harry points out.

Louis rolls his eyes, but relents, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. To answer your query, Harold, I did.”

“And what did you think?” Harry’s looking at him with an amount of intent in his eyes and voice that Louis doesn’t quite understand the need for.

“I think that, um, your _guy_ is lucky,” Louis stumbles over his words, already plotting up ways to get revenge on Niall, Liam and Zayn for leaving them alone for too long. Harry blinks twice, so Louis figures his answer wasn’t good enough and forces himself to continue, “Because you’re genuinely interested in him, but he doesn’t see it apparently… but honestly, Haz, I think you should probably just talk to him.” Fortunately, his voice doesn’t crack, but his heart definitely takes a swift blow as he encourages Harry to go for someone else, “I’m sure he’s already gone for you, just too nervous to do anything about it.”

It’s quiet for another couple of seconds and Louis glances from his metal cutlery to the checkered floor, wondering if he could possibly dig his way out.

Eventually, the clearing of Harry’s throat commands his attention, but he’s looking out the window this time. He sniffs, a bunny-like scrunch of the nose that Louis would probably coo at, if the air between them wasn’t so charged.

“Who is my ‘guy’, Louis?” He questions, fingers curled in air quotes and lips pressed together tightly. Their usual berry colour whitens under the pressure.

It’s an unfair question that Louis doesn’t have the answer to and quite honestly doesn’t want to have the answer to. He doesn’t want to know the name of the man who managed to infatuate Harry, doesn’t want to know what he looks like or what _Harry_ looks like when he’s around.

“How the fuck would I know?” His voice comes out harsher than he intended, but it’s out in the open and he can’t take it back. Instead, he maintains his position and waits for Harry to look at him.

When Harry angles himself away from the window and looks at him, there’s a mixture of frustration and dejection drifting on his face. “Are you joking?”

Before Louis can reply, a body slides beside him in the booth and two other bodies sit beside Harry.

“Sorry we’re late,” Zayn sounds out of breath, as he browses through Louis’ discarded menu.

Liam loops his arm around Zayn’s shoulders, offering both of them a smile, “I’m sure they were fine alone.”

Niall nods eagerly, patting Louis on the back with a wink, “Definitely. Attached at the hip these two.”

Louis hums, before offering his suggestions and trying to steer the conversation into a more neutral area. Even after they order and end up talking amicably about _The Great British Bake Off_ , Louis still feels on edge every time he finds Harry watching him.

 

-

 

The weather is nice, full of clear skies and bodies roaming aimlessly, so Louis forces himself to walk to the campus. He’s just unlocked the door to the radio station and set his bag down, when he finally checks his phone for any missed messages.

Harry: “Dead Sea” by The Lumineers.

Louis: uh.. what about it?

Harry: Will you play it for me?

 

Truth be told, Louis would probably do anything Harry asked. So, it only takes a split second for him to accept Harry’s request and swap out his first song for “Dead Sea”. His thumb hovers over the “x” and Louis forces himself to send it. He reasons that if he wants things to be back to normal, he should try to be less cold towards Harry.

Louis: i’ll see what i can do about it x

Harry: You’re the best. Xx

 

If Louis ends up starting his show a minute late, it’s definitely not because he was staring at those two letters for longer than necessary.

He slumps back in his chair, stretching his legs out on the table and trying not to read into the lyrics of the song Harry chose. He fails, of course.

_  
I don't gamble, but if I did, I would bet on us_

_Like the dead sea_  
You told me I was like the dead sea  
You'll never sink when you are with me  
Oh, lord, like the dead sea /

_Honey, can't you see,  
I was born to be, be your dead sea /_

_I've been down, I've been defeated_  
You're the message, I will heed it   
Would you stay,  
Would you stay the night? /

 _Dead sea,_  
You told me I was like the dead sea  
I never sink when you are with me  
Oh, lord, I'm your dead sea

 

“That, uh, that was “Dead Sea” by the Lumineers! It was requested by a baby deer that I’m friends with,” he winces when he hears how rough his voice sounds. He hopes Harry isn’t listening, because he probably sounds like he’s just finished an hour long blowjob. _Maybe Harry should listen then_ , he briefly considers. “Um, anyways, this next one is “Cranes In The Sky” by Solange.”

The response is instantaneous.

Harry: Thank you.. x

Harry: For playing the song and slyly mentioning my legs. :)

Harry: Your voice was made for the radio by the way, like silk.

Harry: Although, you should probably stop smoking, Lou. Sounding the slightest bit raspy. x

 

Louis doesn’t have the strength to tell him that he hasn’t smoked in weeks, nor does he have the clout to admit that it’s Harry, not the cigarettes, that have rendered him weak.

 

-

 

“I am an expert,” Liam states confidently, when he pads into the kitchen and spots Louis pouring milk over his cereal.

Louis had scowled at the awful choice of cereal, when he had woken up that morning. He hadn’t even gone to the shops recently, but judging by the seeds, grains and dried berries floating in his bowl, Harry was the one who had so graciously re-stocked his supply. Fuck Harry, but also… _fuck, Harry._

Louis joins Liam at the table and prods, “Expert, you say?”

“Mhm,” Liam smiles to himself.

“On what, exactly?”

Liam lets out an exasperated sigh, “Turning friendships into relationships, obviously.”

Louis almost chokes on a goji berry and curses Harry internally, while Liam pats him on the back encouragingly. When his throat doesn’t feel seconds away from constricting, he reluctantly returns to their conversation, “Why are you telling me this? Also, I don’t think you can classify yourself as an expert, when you’ve only done something once. Not to mention the fact that it took a fucking decade.”

“Three years,” Liam corrects him calmly.

Louis rolls his eyes, speaking with his mouth full, “Still not an expert.”

“You’re going to choke again,” Liam warns.

“It is what it is.”

“Okay…” Liam seems to consider this, before resting his head on his hands and watching Louis closely, “but does _it_ have to be a hospital visit?”

Louis shrugs, “I don’t make the rules, Li.”

“You don’t have to break them either,” Liam reminds him.

Louis sets his spoon down and mimics Liam’s position, lifting his elbows onto the table and placing his chin on his hands, “Liam, if you’re going to have an intervention, at least do it right. You’re veering off course, mate.”

Liam huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. When Liam’s done lecturing him, Louis should probably compliment him on his gym progress. For morale and all that. “Well, you’re really good at distracting people! Knock it off, Tomlinson.”

Louis stifles his laughter and goes back to eating his cereal, so Liam takes a deep breath and starts again, “I just wanted to give you some advice on the whole Harry situation, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.” He does.

Liam ignores him, “Because it has come to our attention that neither of you have the guts to admit your feelings to each other.”

“First of all, you’re one to talk, and second of all, _our_ attention? Who else are you talking about?” Louis scowls, not sure why this conversation is even happening. He doesn’t know why his friends won’t just drop it. They seem to be incapable of understanding that Harry’s just not interested in him like that.

“I choose not to acknowledge your rude comment-”

“Spell ‘acknowledge’,” Louis says under his breath.

“Correction! I choose to ignore your rude _comments_. Comments. Plural,” Liam sounds out each word.

Louis nods, “Not singular.”

“You know what else isn’t singular?”

Louis wants to die, “Oh my God. Stop.”

“Your feelings, because Harry likes you too!”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Louis lowers his head against the table in an effort to hide the perk in his ears and the ounce of hope in his eyes.

Liam scoffs, “You know what I mean, though! Your situation isn’t one-sided, you’re just oblivious. Niall, Zayn and I don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” Louis mumbles against the wood surface.

“Why you don’t see how stupidly in love with you Harry is.”

Louis lifts his head and Liam repeats in a solemn voice, “It’s honestly disgusting how much he likes you.”

“As a friend, though. Just as a friend,” Louis sighs, rubbing his temples as he feels the first wave of a headache approaching.

Liam shakes his head, but Louis looks at him pleadingly, so he drops the subject and gets up to make his own breakfast.

 

-

 

Group Chat

Niall:  i miss me boys !!

Zayn: …

Zayn: You just saw us like 2 days ago..

Liam: ya , separtion anxity or wht?

Harry: You didn’t spell a single word correctly.

Zayn: Leave him alone, Styles

Liam: <3

Liam: love knos no languige :)

Harry: Knows*. Language*.

Louis: and neither do you apparently.

Niall: lmaoooo!! Good one , Louis !

Harry: He’s funny, isn’t he?

Niall: the best

Harry: Agreed.

Liam: languige :)

Zayn: ^^ ??

Louis: honestly… who knows

Niall: rite. ANYWAYS , let’s do Stag Head 2nite?!

Niall: Ed’s playin a set , should b a riot !

Liam: z & i r in

Harry: Sure.

Niall: lou ?

Louis: i’m at the station tonight

Niall: no ure not

Louis: uh, yeah i am?

Niall: nope. H knows ur sched & he says u don’t work 2day , liar

Zayn: …You guys have a separate chat to talk about Louis?

Harry: It’s none of your business.

Liam: can i b in it ??

 

-

 

Louis somehow ends up alone within seconds of entering the bar, but that’s usually how nights out with his group go. He’s not too concerned about it though, since he meets a fairly attractive man at the bar and enjoys himself. If he’s being honest, the gin and tonic in his hands is far more responsible for his good mood than the man that’s got a hand on his thigh, but no one needs to know that.

His mind doesn’t wander like it usually does, but as the universe would have it, Harry appears by his side. Or rather, behind him, eerily similar to the day they first met.

Louis is about to ask him what he wants, when Harry quickly whispers out, “Please, don’t,” into the nape of his neck. Louis turns on his seat and opens his mouth, which promptly closes when he notices the stranger with an arm around Harry’s waist. He rolls his eyes, liquor affecting his choice of words as he tells Harry to fuck off and watches his eyes widen in surprise, before he’s being dragged away by the stranger.

“You alright?” The man sitting with him, Sebastian, asks tentatively.

Louis nods a bit too quickly, shooting him a smile, “I’m fantastic.”

Sebastian smirks at that, “Yes, you are.”

He crowds in on Louis and presses their lips together a bit too rough for Louis’ taste. Louis hesitates, but ignores his reservations and relaxes into the kiss. He scolds himself for immediately thinking that Sebastian’s lips aren’t plump enough or red enough. The thoughts of Harry that are swimming around in the shallow end of his mind only fuel his urge to continue kissing Sebastian, though. As he wraps his arms around the man’s neck and begins to place kisses along his jaw, he silently hopes that Harry is watching.

Almost as if on cue, he’s being pulled away from the bar and through the masses. He recognizes the hand holding his own as Harry’s and feels extremely light-headed. Harry leads him through the back entrance and within seconds, he’s being bracketed against the wall. His back shivers under the cold brick wall, but the way that Harry’s breathes heavily over him fills his bones with a scorching heat. There’s a furious expression on the taller boy’s face, and he continues to not say anything, but openly gape at Louis. His eyes are taking in every inch of him and Louis suddenly feels overexposed and way too vulnerable for his liking. Louis shoves him once, not wanting to be the first one to speak. Harry doesn’t flinch, so Louis shoves him again.

Louis shakes his head incredulously, breaking the silence, “What are you doing, Harry? Why did you drag me outside?” Again, Harry doesn’t move. “Fuck. Harry, do you even know what you’re doing?”

“I never know what I’m doing around you,” he answers honestly and Louis would much prefer for him to be yelling. Even though Harry looks aggravated, his voice remains calm and poised. Louis hates how visibly fine the other boy is and how his own voice betrays him.

Louis’ body trembles and his fists clench in sheer frustration, as he spits out, “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, Harry… I-I don’t get why you’re allowed to fuck the entire population of the UK right in front of my eyes, yet I can’t even kiss a boy without you interfering?”

Harry looks hurt, stepping back almost as if Louis physically attacked him. He collects himself though, inching forward again and biting his lip nervously before asking a few questions of his own, “Do you know what I’m feeling? Do you not see how fucking jealous you made me inside there? Do you even understand what it is that I’m jealous of, Lou?”

“No,” Louis breathes out, he can barely manage a shrug under their close proximity, “Maybe you should tell me for once.”

Harry shakes his head, a bitter, humour-less laugh huffing past his mouth. His eyes are wet and he gulps loudly, “You’re never going to get it, are you?”

Louis blinks, mind running through millions of scenarios but ultimately, drawing up blank. Harry finds his answer in Louis’ silence.

He sighs sadly, the anger flushing from his body and releasing the stiffness in his posture. Louis isn’t sure what emotion replaces his irritation, but his bottom lip slumps down in defeat. Louis hesitantly takes a step closer and reaches out for Harry’s hand. He thanks all of the stars, because Harry doesn’t brush him off, simply weaves their fingers together with an amount of pressure that tells Louis that he really doesn’t want to let go.

Louis isn’t sure of how long they stand there, with their hands locked tightly and their faint breaths as the only sounds being exchanged. His blue eyes desperately search Harry’s face, but Harry adamantly looks elsewhere.

After he clears his throat a couple of times, Louis tries again and speak in a softer tone, “Why don’t you just tell me?”

Harry looks up again, his eyes are blanketed with hurt and Louis’ heart hurts just as much, if not more.

The apprehensive expression on his face fades with every passing moment and Louis swears he sees an optimistic look in Harry’s eyes.

Louis barely has time to think, when Harry takes the remaining step in between them and leans down, their foreheads pressing together. Harry’s lips have always been the most beautiful shade of red that Louis’ ever seen and he often chalked up his attraction to that simple fact. But in this moment, where he’s close enough that he can count every freckle sprinkled on the boy’s face, Louis realizes that it’s never been just the colour of Harry’s lips that have fascinated him. He realizes that it has more to do with the fact that they make up a fraction of his favourite face, the face he yearns to see every day for as long as he’s so lucky.

Louis watches the gentle meeting of lashes to skin, as Harry’s eyelids lower and his hands cup either side of Louis’ jaw delicately. The last thing Louis sees before he closes his eyes is the parting of Harry’s lips.

Harry’s lips feel like velvet and taste like home, luring Louis into a glossy, dream-like state. They’re tentative at first, but their motions soon melt into more indulgent and open-mouthed kisses. A low moan escapes the back of Louis’ throat, as he feels Harry on his tongue. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, short-circuiting his brain and jump-starting his heart.

By the time Louis’ mind is catching up with what his heart has been telling him this whole time, Harry is pulling away as if he’s been burned.

Harry is looking at Louis with an unreadable expression, gaze lingering on his puffy lips and expanded pupils. Louis attempts to connect their lips once more, but Harry holds him still. He looks sad and Louis doesn’t understand why.

“We have to stop pretending, Louis.” Harry sighs, hands falling to his sides, “I can’t keep doing this.”

With that, he walks off and leaves Louis with empty hands and heavy thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope i didn't break your hearts! have a little faith in me, please x
> 
> one more chapter to go.
> 
>  
> 
> ♡


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not dead, unfortunately. 
> 
> but i am back with this fic... can i start off with an apology? i had so much more planned for this fic originally, but i genuinely lost my interest in writing it. i have other ideas that i'd like to work on more, so i hope to get those posted in the near future. 
> 
> also don't kill me but this chapter was written MONTHS ago and i literally just tweaked it slightly in the past 20 minutes..... okay actually feel free to kill me like why didn't my dumbass post it earlier lmao anyways sorry i love y'all and hope you enjoy the ending
> 
> also she (me) didn't really proofread this (bc i'm lazy) so if there's any errors ... sorry (yell at me and i'll fix it)
> 
> xx

Louis’ feet remain planted on the alleyway pavement and his left hand burns every time he lifts it to feel the lingering embers of Harry’s touch on his lips. The currents of time have passed, attempting to wear him down, but he stays right where he is. He stays in the moment of what he categorizes as a somewhat indirect, yet clear rejection. His eyes don’t flicker away from the street Harry disappeared to, even when people escaping the pub for a quick smoke nudge him and ask for a light. He keeps his lips in a straight line and waits until he feels stable enough to walk away.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to leave, doesn’t know how it was so easy for Harry to leave.

Just as he’s approaching his flat, he finds himself entangled in a painful wind of thought that leads him to believe that it was easy for Harry to leave, because he didn’t want to be there in the first place. His throat feels tighter instantly.

He doesn’t sleep well that night, stirring constantly. The trials and tribulations of the past few months with Harry flood his stream of consciousness. His mind attempts to usher him away from those thoughts, but his heart has an unyielding grip, relentlessly urging him to let the younger boy explain himself. He thinks he might.

 

-

 

“That, my dear listeners, was “Sweet November” by SZA. I’d apologize for playing slow songs on a Friday night, but instead I’ll just play “Love Is A Losing Game” by Amy Winehouse once more and switch to some lighter ones after,” Louis says into the microphone, the following evening.

He lowers his headphones from his ears with a sigh, letting them curl around his neck. He’s not enough of a masochist to listen to the song, when he knows that Amy’s lyrics will resonate with him more than ever at the moment. He doesn’t get to enjoy the silence for long though, since his phone lights up and dings several times indicating multiple texts flooding in. He sees the name “Harry” and braces himself for the worst, eyes already prickling with emotion.

  
_Harry: I had a good talk with Niall this morning._

_Harry: If being ambushed and yelled at counts as a good talk, that is._

 

Louis stares blankly at his phone, before dropping it on his desk and lifting his headphones to his ears with shaky hands. He doesn’t know what Niall told Harry, but thinks it’s safe to assume that Harry told him the events of the previous night and Niall tried to be a good friend by telling him about Louis’ stupid feelings.

 _Harry knows_ , Louis thinks, biting his lip. “What the actual fuck,” he curses under his breath.

 

_Self-professed profound_

_Till the chips were down_

_Know you’re a gambling man_

_Love is a losing hand_

 

Louis’ throat feels like sandpaper, as he croaks out, “Up next is “Fleur de Lys” by Phoenix. Uh, please don’t kill me if I butchered that pronunciation,” and keeps his eyes on his phone. He gulps, when he notices another message from Harry.

 

_Harry: You pronounced it correctly._

_Harry: Are you too busy to talk right now?_

  
Louis scowls at the texts, a temporary rush of misplaced anger is moving his fingers across the keyboard before he can think better of it.

 

Louis: am i too busy to talk  ? were you too busy talk after pulling that shit last night?

Louis winces as the ‘delivered’ turns to ‘read’ and rushes to apologize.

_Louis: sorry that was uncalled for. didn’t mean it_

 

A minute goes by with Louis chewing his lip nervously and the song reaching its final chords. Louis’ fingers are tugging at his loose sleeves out of habit. Sweater paws, as Harry had dubbed them during one of their first nights out. It feels like a lifetime ago to Louis.

 

_Harry: Oh... Did I misunderstand my conversation with Niall?_

 

Louis could lie. Louis could tell him that Niall was just messing with him. Louis could say that Niall has no idea what he’s talking about. Louis could do a lot of things, he could.

But it’s been months and he has nothing, apart from tears, goosebumps and heart ache, to show for it. He decides it’s probably about time he undresses his poorly-disguised feelings.

 

_Louis: no. i don’t think you did._

 

When seven more songs go by and Harry still hasn’t responded, Louis takes that as his answer. He grits his teeth together, blinks several times to deter any tears from forming and throws his phone back in his rucksack.

“I know I promised happier music, but,” Louis stops midway through introducing “Heaven” by Depeche Mode, but his words get caught in his throat when his phone buzzes.

 

_Harry: Will you play me ‘Show Me Love’?_

 

Louis doesn’t hesitate, taps his tongue against the roof at his mouth once and restarts his sentence with what he hopes sounds like confidence, “Here’s one of my favourite songs from the ‘90s, “Show Me Love” by Robin S.”

It is indeed one of his favourite tunes from the ‘90s and he knows that Harry knows that as well. He’s always loved the juxtaposition between the simplistic dancefloor beat and the demanding lyrics.

_Heart breaks and promises_  
_I've had more than my share_  
_I'm tired of giving my love_  
_And getting nowhere, nowhere_

_What I need is somebody who really cares  
I really need a lover , a lover that wants to be there_

_It’s been so long since I've touched a wanting hand_  
_I can’t put my love on the line_  
_This, I hope you'll understand_

 _So, baby if you want me_  
_You've got to show me love_  
_Words aren't so easy to say_  
_You've got to show me love_

 

As the melody fades away, Louis takes his phone back and hastily sends the same message from before.

_Louis: you didn’t misunderstand._

He is about to entertain the train of thought that maybe _he’s_ misreading the situation, when his phone buzzes once more.

 _Harry:_ _Good. x_

“Here’s another tune from the ‘90s. “Tell It To My Heart” by Taylor Dayne.” He reclines in his chair and keeps his eyes on his phone.

He doesn’t hear from Harry for the rest of the night, thinks maybe he crossed a line, worries that Harry will never cross it with him.

 

He wakes up the next morning with an ache stirring in his head and a feeling of uncertainty stretching down to his toes. He turns on his side and reaches for his phone, hoping to find something from Harry. There’s nothing.

He thought that he had made progress with Harry, but apparently not. Louis sighs, leaning his back against the headboard and lamenting the past sequence of events. He’s starting to believe that he only hears and sees what he wants to hear and see. At least when Harry’s involved. He’s holding out for a glimmer of light from someone who constantly leaves him in the dark.

Or maybe it’s the other way around. Louis doesn’t know.

“Ouch,” he huffs, as Atticus jumps on his lap with no warning, his long claws digging into Louis’ thighs. He wraps his arms around the black pug, wondering if Atticus can sense the turmoil he’s going through and is showing him affection out of pity. Either way, he’ll take it.

If he listens to “Tears Dry On Their Own” by Amy Winehouse throughout the entire day, no one needs to know. He trusts that Atticus will keep his secret.

 

-

 

_Please don’t go, please don’t go_

_I love you so, I love you so_

_Please don’t go, please don’t go_

_I love you so, I love you so_

_Please break my heart_

 

Louis has been awake for approximately two minutes and lets out a yawn, as he decides that he doesn’t want to leave his bed just yet. He watches lazily as the Alt-J record spins around, vocals and instruments circulating his room. It’s half past ten on a Monday morning, denoting three days since the incident at the club and forty-one and a half hours since he last spoke to Harry.

Every moment that comes and goes without face-to-face contact between them is a shock to Louis' system. Which may sound dramatic, but he genuinely feels empty. He always knew Harry meant a lot to him, but he never realized just how much.

His eyelids feel heavier with every waking second, an awful amount strain required to keep them open. There’s no one that Louis wants to see anyways, except the one person who probably doesn’t want to see _him_.

Louis doesn't know where he went wrong, doesn't know how Harry could've kissed him and left like that. He doesn't want to believe that Harry had found out about his feelings and exploited them. He doesn’t think that he had been so obvious with love in his eyes that Harry took pity on him, but couldn’t go through with it. He knows that Harry would never carelessly tamper with him and not consider the aftermath. After running through the various hypotheticals though, there's only so much left for him to believe.

On that particular night, minutes after Harry had walked away, Louis was prepared to call it a rejection. The rejection was a lump in his throat that he couldn't seem to swallow without crying his eyes out first. For a minute, he had thought that the kiss would lead to more. He allowed himself to believe that Harry had kissed him because he felt the same way. He didn't, obviously, because he walked away and didn’t come back.

 _We have to stop pretending_ , Harry had said. Five words that etched themselves into Louis' skin, scolding him for blurring the boundaries of friendship. Initially, Louis interpreted those words as Harry apologizing for not being able to continue to pretend that he didn’t see how incredibly gone Louis was for him, but also for not reciprocating his feelings.

On that particular night, Louis thought that _he_ was the one that made Harry uncomfortable, that he pushed Harry away. That it was his fault, not Harry’s. That the fall of their friendship had always been bound to rest on his shoulders.

But on this Monday morning, he puts a mental halt on the theorizing. As far as he knows, Harry just doesn't want him and has resorted to avoiding him. Whether it’s because Harry doesn't want to hurt Louis’ feelings any further or because he has feelings of his own to sort through, it's the bleak reality that Louis has to learn to live with. Especially if he ever wants Harry back in his life again.

Which is a whole other realm of thought that Louis is now hyperaware of, but doesn’t want to delve too deep into. His indecision stems from him not even knowing what he wants anymore. Of course, he knows that wants Harry. He’ll probably want Harry for the rest of his days, but as the stretch of time between their last conversation expands further, he thinks that maybe it’s not an option anymore.

Before the kiss, he had at least been able to suppress his feelings to some degree. After the kiss, he doesn't know how he could possibly look Harry in the eye and not breakdown immediately. If Harry did return his feelings, why did he walk away? If Harry didn’t return his feelings, why did he reach out the very next evening and request songs about confessing love? These two questions are separate trees of curiosity, fear branching off of one and hope branching off the other.

A faint whine escapes him as he derails his train of thought and decides to get out of bed. He flips on his side then and his breathing becomes shallow once he notices the person sitting in his desk chair.

One of his legs is tucked underneath him and the other one is dangling back and forth on the carpet, allowing him to swivel in the desk chair. He doesn’t even attempt to hide the fact that his eyes have been watching Louis straight on, just nods at the record player on the opposite side of the room and says in a conversational manner, “Always had a flair for the dramatics, haven’t you?”

“Harry?”

“Guess that comes with the whole theatre background, though.”

“Harry…”

“The star of the show, one might say.”

“Harry.”

“Do you need anyone to hold a spotlight above you? I’d do it for free.”

“Harry, please stop fucking talking so I can think,” Louis is perched up on the side of his bed now, suddenly aware that the majority of his body is exposed since he only slept in briefs. He rubs his eyes out with the backs of his hands, blinking uncontrollably and clenching his toes.

Harry chimes in, “Didn’t you once tell me that those are sleep paralysis tactics? Are you not sleeping well?”

“Harry, please.”

“Please what?” He asks.

Louis is riddled with speculation and Harry has the nerve to act as if it’s perfectly normal for him to appear out of nowhere. His words are blunt, but he notices that Harry doesn’t shift the slightest bit. “Shut the fuck up while I try to figure out how the fuck you got in my room. Or maybe I’m dreaming,” he trails off in a confused tone, mouth slightly agape. Harry’s eyes trail the way Louis’ lips part and his breath hitches for a moment, before he shakes his head abruptly.

“Harsh words for ten o’clock, Lou. Niall gave me your spare key, by the way.”

Louis rolls his eyes, trying to regain some composure before he begins his interrogation, “I’m really not in the mood to entertain this clueless act you’re putting on right now.”

“Wait, do you dream about me often?” Harry quirks his head, the column of his neck exposed and the line of his jawline so sharp that Louis’ mouth feels bone dry.

Louis averts his eyes then, “Must you make a joke of everything?”

“No,” Harry sighs, his hands clasping around one of his knees, “I just wanted to keep things light for as long as possible.”

Louis laments his choice of words, but ends up shaking his head and returning to his attempts to breath normally again, “Alright… well, just stop talking. Please.”

“Do I have to?”

“I said please.”

“You did, yes.” Harry nods thoughtfully, he’s still staring when Louis opens his eyes again. “Now is that all you have to say?”  
Louis hugs his knees to his chest, a bewildered expression on his face and a pounding in his heart that he hopes only he can hear, “Well, excuse me for being a little tongue-tied when-”

Harry cuts him off with an authoritative tone that goes straight to Louis’ cock, “Lovely, because I have a lot of things of my own to say.”  
Louis opens and closes his mouth several times, absentmindedly aware of how much he resembles a fish. Harry takes that as his cue to begin speaking again, “Louis, I tried to stay away, I really did. I tried to give you your space and respect the boundaries of our friendship, but, uh, you can clearly see how that worked out,” he gestures around Louis’ room with a somewhat guilty look on his face, “And if I’m being perfectly honest, I’m glad I failed miserably.”

“Why is that?” Louis’ voice is nothing short of a faint whisper pressed into the rounded edge of his knee, but Harry’s so in tune with him that he hears him.

“Because I can’t keep living like this, Lou.” He admits, the confidence in his tone faltering, but his eyes still meeting Louis’ own steadily. Louis feels faint and dazed, finds that he can’t do much more than wait for Harry’s next few words and send a silent plea for everything to be okay between them after all. Harry remains silent though, his own eyes pleading with Louis, so he inhales and exhales slowly.

“I mean, I’ve heard those words before… three days ago to be exact.”

Sure, he has a million things he’d like to tell Harry. He could tell him about the fondness that prods at his insides, when Harry’s giving him a lopsided grin. He could tell him about the way he forgets how to breathe, when Harry loops an arm around his waist to steady him after a long night out. He could tell him about the many times he’s woken up to stray curls brushing his nose and soft snores in his ears. He could tell him that even though it made him sneeze and often woke him up hours before he needed to be up, it was singlehandedly his favourite way to wake up. He could tell him that nothing could ever compare to just being together at the same place at the same time.

Sitting there, across from Harry whose aura somehow manages to straddles the polar lines of timid and bold, he thinks maybe he could say those things.

Sitting there, across from Harry who left him in a back alley three days ago, he thinks maybe he’s better of keeping them to himself.

“I was scared,” Harry sighs, he has the decency to look ashamed as he shuts his eyes and throws his head back in contemplation, “I’m always so scared around you, Louis.”

“I’ve never given you a reason to be,” Louis furrows his brows, extending one leg out and hooking it around the swivel chair, he drags it forward a bit to force Harry to meet his gaze again. “I can’t keep up with your coded words, Harry. Can you just tell me what you’re feeling?”

He’s expecting Harry to let him down easy, tell him he still wants to be friends but that Louis needs to take it down a notch. He’s not expecting Harry to let out an exasperated breath and blurt out, “Right, because it’s not like I’ve been trying to tell you for the past fucking two months and a half or anything!”

To say that Louis is taken aback is a horrible understatement. He blinks once, twice, three times before he’s off to the bathroom and spilling his guts out. He flushes the toilet and grabs the nearest towel, wiping his mouth off and flinching when he sees Harry in the mirror. Harry’s warm palm is suddenly placed on his back and guides him closer to the counter, he pours toothpaste out on a toothbrush and hands it over. Louis silently accepts it and almost wants to laugh at how patiently Harry is waiting for him to finish brushing his teeth.

It’s fucking weird. That’s the only way to describe it. Louis is still convinced that he’s unconscious and dreaming up a storm. Not a bad storm though, possibly a calm storm. One that prompts him to get himself together, one that leads him to safety.

Harry has a lighthouse tattoo. He pauses his brushing and wonders why he’s thinking about tattoos and their hidden meanings all of a sudden.

After rinsing his mouth out one more time, he takes one look at Harry and promptly falls to the ground, his bare back aches slightly as he slides down it. Harry is by his side immediately, sitting beside him cross-legged.

“I’m sure you have better things to do than sit on a bathroom floor with me.”

Harry shakes his head, voice firm as he says, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I could be doing absolutely nothing with you and have the time of my life.”

“Even when I’ve just vomited?”

“Especially,” Harry doesn’t miss a beat and Louis can’t help the upward curl in his own lips.

Louis laughs softly, “Is that a thing for you?”

Harry nods solemnly, “I would’ve told you sooner, but I wanted it to happen organically.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And hard.”

Louis looks down instinctively then back up at Harry’s mischievous eyes, “Liar.”

He holds his hands up defensively, a tiny smirk on his crooked lips, “Lying is our shared area of expertise.”

“Speak for yourself,” Louis snorts.

The shift in Harry’s mood is visible, as he appears to sober up, a sense of sincerity replaces the playfulness in his tone, “I’d like to… if you’d give me the chance.”

“I always do.”

“That you do,” Harry places his hand down on Louis thigh and squeezes. Their eyes meet, but Louis breaks the contact because he’s afraid of the emotions that are visible there. He still doesn’t know where Harry stands.

“Since I met you, I’ve never been with anyone,” Harry starts.

“No one?” A scoff escapes Louis immediately, “Lying really is a hobby of yours, innit?”

Harry shushes him, before continuing, “I know you’ve seen me leave clubs with other people-”

“Practically dangling off you,” Louis adds bitterly before he can stop himself.

Harry pinches his side and says sternly, “Are you going to let me talk or are we going to extend our three day break into a three year one like Zayn and Liam?”

“The latter would require us to end up together,” Louis bites his lip, raising his head and feeling strangely calm when Harry gives him a small smile. He doesn’t look put off at all.

“I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sound lovely… the outcome at least. I don’t think I could last three more years of waiting.”

Louis’ heart has definitely relocated itself in his throat, as he lamely croaks out, “Bad stamina.”

Harry rolls his eyes, pinching him yet again. He slides his arm through the slight distance between the wall and Louis’ back, pulling him closer. Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder on instinct and his skin pricks up with goosebumps, as Harry possessively holds him by the waist. His head is above Louis’ forehead, so he leans down and whispers against the shell of his ear, “You’re the funniest boy I know and I’d love to hear you talk forever, but can you let me take the lead for once?”

Louis nods, not quite trusting his voice.

Harry leans back then, his hands leaving Louis’ waist, but Louis doesn’t have time to frown at the absence, because they eventually cup his face. One of Harry’s fingers brushes his cheekbone, as he takes a deep breath and says, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Louis replies naturally.

Harry shakes his head, “Yeah, but not like friends do.”

“Fuck.” Louis closes his eyes, not having the strength to look at him when he finally confesses his feelings, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Haz.”

The hands caressing his face fall immediately and Harry’s mumbling to himself, “I knew it.”

Louis opens his eyes, but keeps them fixed on the sink in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Harry sniffs, bringing his own legs to his chest. He tries to keeps his voice level, but Louis hears the quiver as he whispers, “You can’t force yourself to feel something you don’t.”

“I’m… I’m not asking you to,” Louis quickly repairs, turning to face Harry. He sighs, shaking his head wistfully, “I mean, I’d love for you to return the sentiment, but I could never ask that of you. And, uh, I mean… We’ll be fine, I promise. Just give me some time to get over it and I promise-”

“What the fuck do _you_ need to get over?” Harry’s head snaps up and he looks absolutely perplexed.

Louis huffs, exasperation taking over as he throws his hands up in the air, “What else? You, you fucking tosser. You’re really making me spell it out for you, aren’t you? Don’t act like you didn’t come over here to let me down easy.”

“I mean… I didn’t.”

The air in the room is suddenly too thick for Louis, so he stands up on unsteady legs, walks back into his bedroom and covers his face with his hands. In seconds, his hands are being removed from his face and his vision is blurry from his tears.

“Baby, don’t cry.” Harry pulls him to his chest, his arms secured around him and Louis allows himself to fall pliant under his touch. It takes a few moments for his breathing to even out and for him to gather himself, before he lifts his head up.

Harry’s eyes are closed, his lashes fluttering slightly against his ivory skin. His nose is releasing tiny sniffs and his satin lips look freshly bitten. The freckles peppered along his skin look a lot like constellations and Louis wants them to guide him home.

“I didn’t think you’d ever like me back,” Louis admits, not surprised when his words come out slow and quiet. Harry’s eyes flicker open instantly and they’re softened with affection, as he swipes a thumb against Louis’ bottom lip.

“I’ve loved you since I bumped into you,” Harry confides, his lips forming a smile as he sees the rouge that begins to tint Louis’ cheeks.

“Which time?” Louis jokes and applauds himself for being able to do that right now. The nights spent fretting over unrequited feelings are settling into the distance, like stationary mountains in the back of a car window. Louis doesn’t spare them a glance, doesn’t spare them a thought.

“Every single time,” Harry giggles, a light sound that Louis adores. Harry leans down, their foreheads bumping and noses brushing. Time is suspended, along with everything else the universe consists of. Everything that isn’t Harry. Louis’ arms form a loose knot around Harry’s neck as he pulls him closer, he’s just about to connect their lips when Harry pulls back an inch.

“Are you serious right now? Oh my God, have I heard this entire conversation wrong or-”

Harry laughs fondly, patting Louis on the cheek and pulling him down on the bed. Louis immediately feels comfortable situated in his lap, with his legs on either side of Harry’s slim hips. Harry holds Louis firmly by the waist and wags a finger in the air, “None of that… yet. I really think I need to finish what I started earlier, so there’s no confusion later.”

Which sounds reasonable and logical, but now that Louis is settled in his lap and so close he could taste Harry’s lips with the tiniest movement… it’s just not realistic.

Louis says as much and Harry chuckles, pecking him on the forehead. “Indulge me for a minute?” He asks, dimples on full display and Louis is a _weak_ fool when it comes to those indents, so he reluctantly nods.

“Like I said, I’ve loved you since the very beginning,” Louis blushes and Harry smiles, placing another ghost of a kiss on his cheek, “But I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, if I were to try something and you rejected me.”

“This sounds eerily familiar to my train of thought,” Louis groans, a pained and embarrassed expression on his face.

Harry shrugs, his own face looking quite sheepish, “Great minds think alike?”

“Oblivious minds, more like,” Louis grumbles, but Harry runs his hands up and down his waist soothingly. It’s nice.

“Hey, now,” Harry says, “Let’s not think too hard about how stupid we were for those past two months. In the grand scheme of things, that’s nothing compared to how long we’re going to be together.”

There’s a flutter in Louis chest, but he plays coy. “Who says I even want to date you?”

Harry rolls his eyes, “Knock it off. We’re making progress.”

“Continue then,” Louis pokes him.

“Right… so I wasn’t sure if you were interested, because you’d always pull back when things got a little flirtatious. That’s why I always tried to occupy myself on nights out, because I didn’t want to look over and see you with someone else, because I knew it would hurt me. But I never slept with any of them, Louis. Since I’ve met you, I haven’t managed more than a couple of one-sided snogs because my mind was elsewhere. I was always thinking about you. That’s actually why I chose people who were the polar opposite of you, actually, because I knew no one could ever compare and I just. I thought it’d be easier to move on if I forced myself to try things with people who didn’t bare the slightest resemblance to you. It didn’t work, obviously. Everyone pales in comparison to you, any day of the week.”

“I actually thought I wasn’t your type, because you always went for blokes who didn’t look like me,” Louis admits.

“I never wanted you to think that. I’m sorry, baby.” Harry says, moving a stray hair out of Louis’ line of vision and connecting their lips in a brief swipe of the mouth, “You are my type, for the record. You and you alone.”

There’s a gap in conversation, as they exchange grins.

“Shall I continue?”

Louis laments this for a moment, before he’s shaking his head no, “I don’t think that’s necessary, Harry. Like you said, the past two months are nothing. I want to focus on the now.”

“Now sounds like the best time,” Harry gasps out, as Louis tugs him down by the collar of his shirt.

 

-

 

They parted ways just an hour later, as Harry had a lunch obligation to Gemma and Louis could honestly use the alone time to process what had just occurred.

Harry left him with a chaste kiss, a light press of the lips, before smiling and promising he’d text him. _Okay, but for real this time_ , Louis had said. Harry had shrugged at him, walking backwards to the lift, _Of course, baby. It’s different now._

It’s almost so much to process that Louis decides he doesn’t need to overanalyze it. All he needs to think about is the fact that Harry likes, _loves_ , him back and that’s more than enough. Louis smiles to himself, but that smile falls when his phone starts to ding non-stop. He rolls his eyes, already knowing what he’s about to face.

 

Group Chat: Louis, Zayn, Liam and Niall

_Niall: It happened boys ! H just texted me tht him n louis got their shit 2gther_

_Zayn: Oh my god_

_Liam: 4 real ???_

_Zayn: If you’re joking.. so help me god, Horan_

_Niall: im serious !! y do u think i asked u 2 for coffee this morning ? i dont like y’all that much. H wanted them 2 have a 1 on 1_

_Liam: it all makes cents …_

_Niall: sense_

_Zayn: Ok, moving on. Can you confirm or deny these allegations, Lou?_

_Liam: plz confirm_

Louis lets out a little laugh, shaking his head fondly.

 

_Louis: confirmed._

_Niall: :)_

_Niall: told u cunts_

_Zayn: Louis, holy shit!_

_Liam: love is love ;)_

_Niall: Z , ur boy is makin it weird_

_Zayn: Leave him alone_

_Zayn: We’re coming home now btw, Louis_

_Niall: in tht case im comin too !_

_Louis: what_

_Louis: no_

_Louis: no one’s invited, let me be blissfully alone_

“I’m glad he finally told you,” Niall is saying, as he pours himself a drink. The glass bottle reads “green kick” and Louis wonders if it’s too early for him to yell at Harry for bringing healthy shit into his flat.

Liam snorts, “I’m glad Louis finally told him.”

“Wait, who told who first?” Zayn asks, quirking his brow in genuine curiosity.

Louis thinks about it, but ends up shrugging, “I’m not sure, I think it was him? I don’t know, I threw up and then I think we were both crying and confessing.”

“What the fuck?” Niall almost chokes and Liam pats his back a little, albeit a little too harshly.

Zayn appears to be stifling a laugh, as he says, “You threw up?”

Louis nods. Liam pouts, “Well, that sucks. I always thought it would be a cuter moment for you two.”

“Hey, it was plenty cute,” Louis defends himself and Harry rather quickly.

“You sure? You threw up,” Zayn repeats.

Louis shrugs, “He still loves me.”

Niall beams and holds up his glass of green juice for cheers, even though he’s the only one with a beverage, “Cheers to Louis and Harry for getting their heads out of their arses! May we no longer be burdened with watching them try to make each other jealous at pubs.”

Louis rolls his eyes, “Pfft, as if-”

“Amen,” Liam and Zayn both say solemnly.

Louis pours the remains of Niall’s drink on the table and mumbles about betrayal, as the other two rush to clean up the sopping mess.

 

“Holy shit.”

Harry nods, glancing up from his menu, “I know. The gluten-free menu is impressive.”

He immediately feels a kick to the shin, as Gemma rolls her eyes at him, “I’m not talking about the fucking menu.”

“Oh, Louis and I? Yeah, that’s absolutely incredible too,” he nods again, holding the menu up higher as he’s unable to help the smile that instantly curls his lips.

“Of course that’s what I’m talking about, you idiot.” Gemma tries to look annoyed, but her face and voice are full of fondness when she continues, “I can’t believe you finally got your head out of your arse.”

Harry frowns, “Hey, that’s a little unfair.”

“Is it? You’ve been in love with this boy for _months_ and pining about him to me over the phone every single weekend, instead of actually doing something.”

“Yeah… but, like, I dropped hints… often. Or, uh, sometimes,” he doesn’t meet her intense stare.

“Okay,” Gemma amends, “Let me start again, I can’t believe _he_ finally got his head out of his arse.”

Harry’s eyes shoot upward and he narrows them at her, “Why are you talking about my boyfriend’s arse? That’s none of your business, Gem.”

Gemma rolls her eyes again, punctuating every word, “Oh my God, Harry. He’s gay.”

“Do you have a problem with that?” Harry challenges. Gemma stares at him blankly, prompting him to burst out into boisterous laughter, “I’m kidding, obviously!”

“Mhm,” Gemma doesn’t sound too impressed, as she flicks through the menu, “Boyfriend though, huh? About damn time.”

Harry smiles, but then the realization that him and Louis never actually clarified what they were dawns at him and he groans.

Gemma arches an eyebrow, “What?”

“I, uh, actually forgot to ask him to be my boyfriend?” Harry says timidly.

Gemma gives him another blank stare. “So?”

“What if he says no?”

She looks confused, “Why would he do that? You both admitted that you’re in love with each other.”

“Yeah, but… you never know,” he grimaces, realizing that his argument is weak. He’s just a little worried, alright? He’s entitled to feel that, after months of longing for more.

His sister closes her menu and swats him on the shoulder with it. She then sits back in her chair and opens her menu again casually, “1. You’re stupid and 2. he would never say no to you.”

His shoulder stings slightly, but he hums happily, eager to see his boy tomorrow.

 

-

 

Louis is nearing the end of his nighttime skincare routine and humming absentmindedly, when he receives a text from Harry.

 

_Harry: Hey, Lou. I hope your evening was lovely. I miss you._

This time around, the rush of blood to his cheeks is not accompanied by feelings of embarrassment or anxiety. Mutual love is a weird thing, Louis decides, but one that he embraces wholeheartedly.

 

_Louis: i missed you today too .. busy tomorrow ?_

_Harry: Not at all. Breakfast? X_

_Louis: i dont wake up before 10 unless i have to_

_Harry: Well, what if there’s some incentive involved?  
Louis: keep talking_

_Harry: Talking’s boring… Why don’t I just show you tomorrow?_

_Louis: this is unfair . don’t tease me_

_Harry: It’s not teasing, love. I fully intend on finishing what I started. Good night, baby. X_

_Louis: fuck you_

Two hours later, he caves in and sends a pouty selfie with the caption: _“fuck you was harsh, im sorry. correction: fuck me ?”_

_Harry: Christ._

-

 

They stumble backwards into Louis’ apartment, within 30 seconds of Harry’s arrival. As Louis’ back lands on his mattress and he feels Harry hovering over him, he lets out a content sigh.

 

The pleasant feeling quickly fades, when he sees how quickly Harry freezes as his mouth nears Louis’ inner thigh.

  
“What is it, love? We can stop, if you want-”

 

Harry shakes his head abruptly, curls bouncing in a delicate manner that starkly contrasts his rigid brows and downturned lips. “No, no, of course not. I want you so bad always.”

 

“Uh? Okay, sick… so what’s the intermission for?” Louis raises an eyebrow, trying to angle his lower body closer to Harry, which manages to crack a smile out of Harry.

 

“I forgot to ask you to be my boyfriend! And as you can imagine, this is a very important talk that we need to have because we need to be on the same page. I love you and I know you love me, but we need to be exclusive, you know? I need that confirmation… it may be silly, but I just really need to know that you want to be boyfriends, because I love you so much and I want to tell everyone that you’re mine and- oh.” Harry cuts himself off with a breathy moan, as Louis’ tiny hands feel him through his boxers. “Is that a yes then?”

 

Louis giggles, sitting up and relishing in the way that Harry eyes his flat stomach as he does so. He loops his arms around Harry’s neck and brings their lips together in a soft touch, before pulling back slightly to nod his head. “Of course, Harry. I would love to be your boyfriend.”  
  
“Sick,” Harry grins, mocking Louis’ earlier wording. “I would love to be yours too.”

 

“You know what else I would love?” Louis whispers into his ear, looking up at Harry with his lips parted ever so slightly.

 

Harry gulps, “Give me a hint?”

 

“I would love for you to ruin me until I can’t even remember my own name.”

 

Harry gulps again, before regaining his smooth composure. “Yeah, yeah. I can do that.”

 

“Lovely,” Louis smiles innocently, tapping Harry on the tip of his nose, before laying back down and gesturing for Harry to follow suit.

 

An hour or so later, Louis wakes up feeling hot all over and realizes it’s due to the boy who has him pressed tightly against his chest. The boy also has overgrown curls that don’t just tickle the tips of Louis’ ears anymore, they tickle his cheekbone. The boy has closed eyes and freshly bitten lips. The boy is his boy.

 

Waking up to Harry might be a good idea after all. Actually, it might be the best idea Louis has ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... i hope this wasn’t THAT bad. again, i promise to come out with better fics that i will actually devote my heart to!! as soon as uni  & my own brain stop kicking my ass, it's over for you bitches.
> 
> tbh, the louke/larry fic, another new fic & a lesbian halloween fic i wrote in october (lmao why didnt my dumbass POST IT BACK THEN) should be coming soooooooon 
> 
> love y'all 
> 
> x


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